#idk something about the idea of them just makes me smile

[divineturtle]

Bothers me when I'm reading a fanfic and they make Doctor Leonard "Bones" McCoy just like. A mean asshole? MY Doctor McCoy introduced Spock to baby talk. MY Doctor McCoy bounces on his toes and has a smile bright as the sun. MY Doctor McCoy knocked Kirk *and* Spock out with a hypo to sacrifice himself for them even though the aliens said he was almost for sure going to die, and the other two would probably live. MY Doctor McCoy was like, hey, sure Spock committed mutiny, but do we really gotta arrest him? Yeah he's grumpy sometimes, but have you considered the fact that he's stuck on a ship in Space with two assholes that literally never listen?

I just watched the Abraham Lincoln episode and I stg it's a miracle McCoy isn't actually a huge asshole, because wym "this planet WAS deadly but Abraham Lincoln says it's cool so we're going" "hey, don't do that, you could beam down into lava and literally DIE" "Ugh shut UP McCoy we're following Abraham Lincoln onto the Lava Planet That WAS ENTIRELY LAVA until two minutes ago" dude I'd be swinging at a mfer. Especially if I was their doctor knowing it was going to be my job to sew them back together. They're absolute menaces to him and he still loves them and is willing to die for them every other episode.

And I don't ever want to see another "ahh he hates Spock" when he so obviously does not. In the last episode, he wasn't even sure that Kirk and Janice had swapped bodies and yet again, he was ready to commit mutiny with Spock and Scotty (why does Spock love mutiny? 🤨) He does like to rib Spock and get reactions out of him, but Spock likes to do it to McCoy just as much. He's been around humans his ENTIRE life, his mom is a human, he's half human, "I have no idea what you mean, Doctor, I'm just a simple little logic machine," you cannot convince me it's not a game.

And every time I feel like McCoy is being hurtful for actually no reason, the next scene is Spock taking action because of whatever McCoy had said and allowing himself to tap into that human part of him. He has a way of speaking Spock. It's not always nice but it's a way that gets through. Do you think asking Spock to use his Vulcan powers to permanently alter his friend and captain's memory so he forgets his grief over this chick he fell desperately for and then also she died in the span of like four hours is a great idea? No, he'd probably have some moral or logical issues with that. but just speech at him about love and feelings and stuff, throw something in there about how great it'd be if he could just forget, and he'll do it himself.

ANOTHER THING. When he's an asshole, he apologizes. He's not an asshole often, but when he is, he apologizes. Leonard McCoy is a lot of things, but he's not really a dick.

I think he deserves to be represented for the guy he is. He has SO many nice and good moments, he's just subtle about them. Remember when Kirk was like, "Bones, why didn't you tell me she was blind?" And he was like, "Idk Jim maybe because that'd be rude? Have you considered it's not your business?" REAL. Honestly, real.

This is a much longer rant than I meant for it to be and somehow I still have more I could say so imma cut myself off right here ❤️ If you read all that, thanks, you're just as weird as I am, even if you don't agree with my lil character analysis. If you didn't read all that, then you're not reading this ✨️

[winterwhisperz-blog]

Ignore how this is my first hc in like…awhile

IM A LIL RUSTY PLS HAVE MERCY

So hi <33 it’s nearing Valentine’s Day which means “omg what would the ts lis do for Valentine’s Day??”

These are far from perfect but I hope you enjoy !! :D

Valentine’s Day In Eridia

Warnings: Rustyyy, a lil suggestive in some of them but nothing too bad, Ais is mentioned to be a lil depressed,and Probably ooc !!

Notes: Gn reader, fluff!

Mhin

Starting with my favorite hshshshs

Mhin isn’t one that usually celebrates things—they don’t see the point. They’re living in an apocalyptic world they need to survive not waste time on chocolates and the stress of making the perfect evening.

But then there’s you…and they end up doing a lot of ‘unnecessary’ things for you even subconsciously.

Despite their grumblings, they do end up finding out how to celebrate.

STAR GAZING !!!! Duh !!

Simple and sweet, just putting aside time for you two to be close and gaze at the night sky.

Butbutbut !! I had an idea !! That may be just utterly silly but I’ll try to make it coherent.

Imagine this okay !

Mhin goes to visit you, shoulders hunched as they try to avoid getting pushed around by the massive crowd. The music is loud, boisterous, too much.

And you realize that when you find them trying to withhold murderous rage in a dark corner.

You had wanted to try out dancing, but you know the crowd in the Wet Wick is going to make that impossible to enjoy. For either just Mhin or both of you if you also don’t like crowds.

So you go to your favorite spot instead. the place you usually watch stars at.

And idk ?? I always pictured that happening on a freaking roof because I personally want to hang out on a roof but you can imagine something different if you want.

The music can still be heard from below, but it’s far more muffled and bearable.

SO !!! okay if this is cringey spare me please LOOK AWAY !

Hem hem…dancing on the roof !!

The music is loud enough for it to not be awkward hshsh-and the moon is out, the stars are clearer than you’ve ever seen them

And it may be silly but it’s the good type of silly okay. The 3 am sleepover type goofy.

You’re having pointless fun. Dancing in a world that’s dying more each day. You’re both cursed beyond a known cure. But you, and surprisingly even Mhin, forget that for a night.

OKAY THAT WAS SUPER LONG MY BAD

Can you tell who my favorite is

Leander

the absolute OPPOSITE of Mhin

He goes ALL out. This is not everyone’s holiday anymore. This is YOUR holiday. His and yours. This day is about only YOU two now.

You open your door and his stupid face is already there with arms holding a mountain of presents.

“Omg how did you afford all this??”

HES RICH !!! STUPID RICH BOY

The presents range from chocolates to a new wardrobe. Especially couple outfits. Especially VALENTINES DAY SPECIFIC couple outfits.

If you’re not comfy with that tho he’d be okay with that too. “As long as people know ur mine it’s fine with me ☺️” *smacks him*

After presents he wants to carry you downstairs. (If ur taller than him you can carry him downstairs. Actually if ur smaller you should still do it. Leander scarf.)

The bloodhounds withhold their dread for the day ahead because he is DOWN SO BAD

Heart shaped breakfast

Pink drinks (don’t drink them)

Love poems

KISSES !

When it’s evening the bloodhounds bust out the violins and candlelight. (When someone goes out of key Leander smiles at them like: 🙂” and they get pulled from the stage.)

Then to finish it all off, he shows off his magic by conjuring a trail of rose petals that lead upstairs.

You wake up the next morning and Leander is like “): you still love me right? Even tho it’s not Valentine’s Day anymore right?”

Ais

Ooooo this is tricky

Ais is very emotion-driven, but he’s not great at expressing those emotions.

He may try to do something classy for you (by Ocudeus’s command because I love that vision)

But it’s obvious he’s uncomfortable and unsure, so you have to tell him you’ll figure out how to celebrate (if you even want to) this day your own way and not what is socially expected.

He mainly just wants you. He wants time with you, to feel you, to hear you and most importantly, relax with you.

You quiet his mind, and so all he really wants is your presence.

Mainly all you do is cuddle, eat together, have a romantic sparing match 🥰✨ and maybe even take a nice bath together.

He loves having his hair washed by you—maybe he even forgets to do it sometimes due to those unseen battles you know he has—and ahh frick I forgot we have cursed hands.

Maybe you wash his hair with your toes idk.

Or wear like those !! Rubber gloves !!

Point is

It’s way more natural with you guys. A domestic routine that you slip so easily into.

It’s a day without any stress, and focused solely on the two of you taking care of each other.

And of course, you don’t forget to get Valentine’s Day treats for all the soulless <33 (especially for Princess because duh)

Kuras

Another toughie!

I can’t decide if he has a hard time because he busies himself with work or since he’s had so many relationships since he’s immortal he knows to set aside that time

To make it easier for me let’s just say he busies himself.

He’s extremely hard on himself so I can picture him thinking he’s undeserving of even celebrating in the first place. (If we’re ignoring him making a cake for Mhin shshsh)

And maybe his heart is just tired.

He’s had lovers, he’s watched them go, and with you? You’re different to him somehow.

He doesn’t know if he should indulge in these feelings. If he can handle the heartbreak again.

Luckily you know Kuras well enough by now to see the guilt and doubt before it digs itself too deep.

With help from Ais, Mhin, and Leander (he inserted himself but also he’s a peacemaker between Ais and Mhin lmaohshs) you manage to convince Kuras to leave the clinic in those there’s hands and just focus on you two.

I like to think Kuras starts out more somber. He’s quiet. Only a small twitch to his brow warns of any building anxieties.

To set the scene more I kinda picture him like ?? As a calmer Julian Devorak in this situation ahshshs just in the way he’s like ‘do I deserve this?’

At one point you take his hands, “Kuras, Talk to me.”

He tries to deny it, to hide it gently and inconspicuously. But you know him. And the Angel can no longer hide his fear from you.

You take him somewhere quiet, where you can sit down and just enjoy each other’s company. Maybe you watch the sunset and like ?? You remind him that you aren’t going anywhere. Not now.

He spends more time just kinda cupping your cheeks, memorizing your face with caresses and soft touches.

When you get home, he wishes to memorize the rest of you too. If you have to become a memory one day, he wants it to be one that consumes him.

Vere

Thought this was gonna be tricky because vere is my ENEMY when it comes to these but !! I actually have a few ideas !!

Doesn’t see the point in sappy old VALENTINE’S DAY

What? You expect him ? A GOD a DEITY to lower himself to a pointless little human tradition?

“You can celebrate me everyday 🙄 why wait ?”

But you know it’s really just because he’s uncomfortable with the idea.

Similar to Ais, he’s more of ‘actions instead of emotions’ and this is a sign of commitment! And he’s still very unsure how to proceed with that sincerely.

And maybe even the day hits some sore spots—if the theory he had a past lover is correct —

He’s just scared. And hiding it by being snarky.

So just give him time to adjust. He does come around. Especially when you don’t start with anything too deep.

You write him small notes. Nothing too sappy but loving. Maybe you add a few puns you know he’ll laugh at.

But then…*evil laugh* after he’s been used to this, and is more comfortable in the relationship—

He spoils you soooo bad

Maybe he even goes overboard with it lmaoshshs.

He turns it into a whole week of just celebrating you. (Not as loudly as Leander, though. He wants to keep it secret so ya know—the Senobium doesn’t ruin it)

Spa day but inside, he wants to see you with any part of his clothes on. He’s far more touchy—he rubs his face on you like a cat HSHSH

And just a looot of time in bed. Doesn’t even need to be sexual, he just wants you close. His treasure. His his his his.

Im becoming a vere girlie and I’m so unwell

OKAY WE’VE REACHED THE END WOOO !!

I hope you enjoyed <33 if this was cringey….🥺 pls don’t murder me I’ll give you ten dollars

[mangionebabymama]

hey there! it’s “lulu feels too hard” anon back with another mini rant (not really a rant, more like an observation haha)

It’s in the same vein of him feeling emotions hard, but i think one thing that needs to be emphasized in this dynamic is how much he’s tried to subdue his emotions – and i don’t just mean recently. in many clips from his prep school days, like when he’s getting an award for example, you can see him smiling like a bit, but then cutting back to this neutral expression. Funny enough, it’s his eyebrows that always give him away loool. It’s similar to how he acts in the court hearing, full of expression, but then immediately goes back to a stoic, neutral expression. There’s even moments like this in some of the clips from Hawaii.

I guess my point is, how much was he taught to mask his emotions, and put up a front. It seems to me that he was brought up in a collective environment where the saying goes “always put your best foot forward, regardless of the circumstance”. I can understand this, coming from a family with similar values of “you represent the family name, your success is our success.”

i think though, that this seems to be what makes lulu resonate with so many of us: he’s empathetic, despite trying to be stoic. There’s a duality about him – the confident Ivy League scholar and the vulnerable, empathetic people pleasing boy who seeks affirmation one way or another.

but I think under this guise of putting your best foot forward, combined with a sense of always showing your masculinity that many guys of that age are pressured to do (and let’s not forget that for most of his schooling he attended an all boys school so there is that sort of “our boys” culture that’s pervasive in these realms), he had to hide the other part of him which felt so deeply, so hard.

it reminds me of one of his Reddit posts talking about his issues with Brain Fog, and how he initially never thought to talk about it with his friends, and instead masked it under this idea of “oh well, marks don’t matter for computer science majors” even though he was hurting and feeling so disappointed in himself to the point of contemplating dropping out. But the part that sticks out to me the most is what he said after in the post about even if you do end up telling them, if you wait too long, it’s almost like they won’t believe you (or something along those lines). And idk, that’s just such a heartbreaking way to think and it makes me sad for him. He internalized so much it seems. And truthfully, I’m not blaming anyone in his circle (family/friends) because I think part of it was also lulu never wanting to seem weak, which unfortunately clouded his vision of seeing that there were people who probably may have wanted to help. It’s just an all around sad circumstance :(

Sorry for the long write up, don’t feel like you need to provide a long response too! (haha i guess in some ways, i relate to lulu too :)

No, no, please don’t apologize for writing this, you captured this so well! 🥺 I wish I had more to add on, but you literally took all the words out of mine and emphasized on this beautifully.

I also think there’s that duality of having an internal vs. external struggle, where he could easily show and offer empathy towards others like it was nothing, but when it came to himself, it was a completely different story to extend grace. I know he had to internalize a lot, and the physical exertion of carrying all that weight on him had to have shown. I remember somebody mentioning how when he’s in deep thought in some photos, you see all the lines on his forehead—and there’s a lot of them, and once you notice them all crinkled, you’ll never not look at them in other photos. So, he literally has/had so much on his mind.

Reading that part of about his brain fog, about the irony of opening up too soon to your friends, fucked me up, to be truthful. I similarity dealt with this about two years ago, when I experienced two close familial deaths within a month before I started my senior year of college, and I was grieving hard. So many people that I know looked at me and considering my bereavement with the “strong Black woman” trope because I do have a strong personality, and I’ve experienced a lot of hardship in my life, so some felt like that I was gonna be alright, regardless, and kind of brushed off my grief like, “Oh, she’ll be alright, you’ve always managed to go through things” but no, lol. It’s the reality that I think, that many of the “strongest” friends in the group more often than not, face, surprisingly, contrary to belief—it happens all the time. When you’re commended to be a strong, resilient person, people don’t consider you to be weak, as in, you can’t persevere through struggles, but if you do, you’ll be fine, and the suffering won’t take much of an effect on you. But, like anyone else in this world, it still hurts, and it’s still acceptable to just give yourself the space to say that it sucks, and it hurts to be hurting. It’s sort of like, you have that universal perception of what it means to be hurt, but you can’t express that you’re hurt in the same breath.

[livingdeadmlm]

You Bring Me Closer to God pt6

Pronouns: The reader is referred to as a man. 

Physical Sex: AMAB. 

How far are things going?: FIRST KISS!! Also, ass grabbing and flirting! If you have any ideas, let me know—your suggestions will really help my writing go faster!

Warnings: Priest Reader is getting drunk, so it is slightly out of it for the kiss and ass grabbing, but not in a bad way? Idk. This shit is consensual cause that's how I wrote it to be. 

Outline: The reader is told Dutch wishes to speak to him, preparing a pie, the reader sets off with Kieran at sunset, not knowing it was an invite to a party!

What inspired me to write this: the awful priest romance book I picked up. 

Other: I am also thinking about writing a Moder Office AU for red dead cause I'm a sucker for the energy of 2010’s fanfics and its tropes. Also if you want to be tagged when I post please let me know! I want to make a tag list because updates are pretty far apart!

Part 1 2 3 4 5

The morning sun painted the town in warm hues. The men had to stop by Valentine to pick up Trelawny from the general store. Each man couldn’t help but glance at the church as they dismounted their horses. 

The sun was like a halo around the building. There was a slight movement inside the church; one of the curtains swayed. They assumed it was your room, though they had no way of knowing for sure. It was just a nice thought.

The shopkeeper greeted them, outlining the available sales and wishing them a good morning. Charles grabbed a cup of coffee while Javier picked up a bread roll and a pack of cigarettes.

Arthur decided to buy a bottle of snake oil, a health tonic, but another bottle caught his eye. Sitting in the corner of the shop was a bottle, and though he usually didn’t pay much attention to such things, today was different. He picked it up, its soft pink label catching the light. 

Philter tonic, it read, something for men to ‘get things done.’ It was strange, but something inside him clicked. Without thinking, he tucked it into his satchel. It wasn’t until later that he realized it had very little to do with stamina and a great deal with his feelings.s  

A voice caught their attention as they returned to their horses: “Mister Smith, Mister Escuella!” Each man looked over and saw you with a market bag by the butcher. 

“Good morning to you both!” you called cheerfully, though it sounded like you were trying to keep your voice light. “Will you join me for breakfast?” While your voice was cheerful. Arthur didn’t speak, his attention turning to his horse, which suddenly needed brushing. 

Remembering his dream, he wanted to turn around and say hello and adequately introduce himself, but something held him back. You were such a sight for his eyes; he felt like a schoolboy and nervous. 

Javier, ever the charmer, was the first to speak. “Ah, Buenos dias, Father (Name). No, we can’t join you today. We’ve got business to attend to.”

Your smile faltered, just for a moment, and you sighed. “Oh, I see. I wish I’d known! I would’ve made you a snack for the road.”

Charles waved his hand dismissively, insisting there was no need, but you wouldn’t hear it. “Nonsense! I enjoy providing.” You said this with such warmth that each man got a lovely treat from you for the road.

“Good morning, Father! What brings you to chat with these three degenerates?” Trelawny laughed as he placed his items into his horse's saddle. Your face showed confusion as Arthur silently cursed at Trelawny.  

You laughed softly, but there was no real humor behind it. “These fine men join me for church meals,” you explained. “I try to provide meals twice daily for those passing through or in need. Tonight, I’m planning a peach pie for dessert.” You held up your market bag, showing the small bounty inside. “As for the third, I’m not sure who you mean!” Your shoulders shrugged, glancing around for who the third person could have been. 

“Why, I mean Valentine's greatest bounty hunter!” bounty hunter? The man stood behind Javier, and Charles finally turned around with a sigh. Holding out his hand for you to shake. You introduced yourself, “Hello! I’m Father (Name)! It’s nice to meet you!” Your hand was warm and soft against Arthurs's harsher, calloused hand. The man was silent; you assumed he was shy. Such a big man being shy was a little funny to you; as you took in his features, he finally spoke, “It’s good to see you, Father (Name).” 

Your heart caught in your throat at the sound of his voice. Arthur. You had heard so much about him, felt the weight of his presence even through the veil of the confessional, but this—this was real. You held his hand a moment longer than necessary before withdrawing it, but your fingers still tingled from the contact. 

“Well,” you breathed, your voice suddenly soft. “It’s good to see you again, Mister Morgan. I wish you all a good day. Be safe out there. You all know where to find me if you ever need anything!”

The words rushed out, and before you even realized it, you were turning away, your cheeks flushed as you hurried back toward the church. Alarm bells went off in Charles and Javier's minds. Arthur had never joined them at your meals. What did you mean again? 

 Arthur stayed silent, his eyes still on the church, even as Trelawny made a joke about the odd folk of Valentine before jumping on his horse. Arthur huffed, getting on his horse and trying to ignore the prying eyes of Javier and Charles. There were bigger things to worry about than how the two of you knew each other, like not dying in Blackwater. 

You almost tripped up the stairs to the church; you couldn’t have been more awkward when finally being faced with the man who seemed to have infected you with homosexual ideations. Such a handsome man had been sitting with you in the dark and in private, teasing you. The same flutter returned to your stomach as you set everything on the kitchen counter. You must calm down before having sweet Kieran with you, probably the two of you alone. Thinking of that soft-eyed man only made your stomach flutter more. He was so eager to be there and help you.

You started cooking, wanting to do something simple to keep yourself occupied. Kieran had joined halfway through, letting you know the Dutch wanted you to visit their camp come sunset. Kieran seemed shy, keeping his distance but still wanting to be close enough to speak to you. When you served him a plate of hashbrowns and eggs, he scarfed it down with the same speed you had always seen him use. 

Kieran initially seemed hesitant, lingering a few steps away, but his eyes betrayed a desire to be near. When you served him a steaming plate of hashbrowns and eggs, he dove into the meal with an eagerness that reminded you of a long-starved animal. He ate quickly, each bite disappearing almost as soon as it touched his plate.

“Kieran, dear boy, you know you don’t have to eat so fast, right? I won't take it away, I promise!” you chuckled, trying to ease the tension in the room. Kieran paused mid-bite, scratching his beard awkwardly, revealing his nervousness. 

"I know! I, uh, I just haven’t had food for a while! And yours is so good, it tastes like home cooking!" His voice carried a hint of wonder, as if he couldn't believe this meal was indeed for him.

You reached out, your hand hovering near him in a gentle gesture. He flinched slightly, instinctively retreating before relaxing as he realized you meant no harm. Softly, you stepped closer and wrapped him in a side hug, trying to offer comfort and reassurance. 

“Aw, I’m sorry, Mister Duffy! Since it's just the two of us here, you can have all the food you want; how about that?” You smiled at him, feeling the warmth in your heart as his eyes lit up like stars against the backdrop of the kitchen's warm glow. 

“Could you keep calling me Kieran? I quite like it.” His voice was softer, almost hopeful. You laughed gently in response. “Of course I can, Kieran. Kieran. Now, let me start some more eggs for you.” The playful repetition of his name hung in the air as you stepped back to the stove to continue cooking.

He had about three more plates before finally full and seemingly tired. “Ah, Kieran, why don’t you have a nap? You can use my bed for a few hours; I'll still be here just cleaning up and preparing for dinner.” Kieran was much less shy while sleepy, as he agreed, taking off his black jacket and practically passing out once his head hit your pillow and your blanket surrounded him. 

You left your room to start on the pie; it would now be a gift for Dutch and Hosea. You weren’t sure what Dutch needed you for, but you were raised never to go to people living empty-handed.

Kieran was in heaven practically. Surrounded by your smell and in a real bed after months of sleeping on harsh ground or in awful weather. He had no idea how to thank you when he’d wake, apart from wanting to be in your bed forever and not to give in sleep so he could keep enjoying the hug of you around him. 

______

As they headed toward Blackwater, Javier’s mind wandered back to the church. The way you smiled at him that morning, that delicate look of kindness, and that softness in your eyes. He hadn’t missed how Arthur’s attention had been fixed on you, either, how he seemed to be drawn to you in a way that was hard to ignore. Javier had always been able to read people, and he knew Arthur well enough to see that there was more to that long handshake.

“Think he’s been seeing Father this whole time?” Javier asked, his voice low but teasing, his eyes watching Arthur ride ahead.

Charles, riding next to him, glanced over. “Arthur? He’s been acting funny ever since we came to Valentine. But don’t expect him to admit it. I don't know what it is about that church and him.” 

Javier gave a knowing smile. “Oh, I don’t know… I think I see it enough. What about you, Charles?”

Charles looked away quickly, trying to hide the flush creeping into his cheeks. He wasn’t one to talk about these things; it was too troublesome, but the more time he spent with Father (Name), the more he felt that same unsettling warmth stirs inside him. He wasn’t sure if it was how you treated him, so kind and attentive, or simply the pull of your presence. Either way, it made him uneasy—and yet, he couldn’t seem to shake it.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Charles replied, his voice gruff. “But maybe Arthur and I aren’t the only ones who feel it.” Javier shot him a sideways glance, his smile curling at the edges. “Oh? You, too, huh? I thought you might be the type to keep your distance, but you might be more like me than you let on.”

Charles gave him a sharp look, but Arthur called back over his shoulder before he could respond.

“Quiet down, you two,” Arthur grumbled. “We’ve got work to do.”

Javier chuckled but didn’t discuss the matter further, knowing that despite their teasing, something more profound was taking root in their little group. As they rode through the landscape, maybe the others felt it as well. Javier didn’t mind competition at all, or even teammates, for that matter. 

__________

The smell of peaches and cinnamon filled the church. After another half hour in the oven, you would take the pie out to cool properly. But for now, you have a new task at hand. The door to your room creaked softly as you checked on Kieran, who snored softly as you entered. You noticed the holes in Kieran's jacket and wanted to mend them as a surprise. With your needle ready, you took his coat in your hands and settled into the rocking chair you kept in your room. You rarely used it, being so busy running around, but lately, Father Gavin and the Sisters had taken on more work, lightening your load.

As you began to sew, the gentle rocking of the chair faded from your mind. Numerous tiny tears in the jacket along the back and elbows indicated that Kieran had greatly cherished it. Once the jacket was finally finished, you snuck out of the room, careful not to wake the poor man; he seemed to need the rest. Fresh from the oven, the pie smelled even better than you had hoped. Setting it on the counter, you felt a wave of tiredness wash over you. Finding tasks was more exhausting than simply checking off items from a list.

You reentered your room. Your bed was big enough for the two of you, but it felt very forward. What if you joined Kieran, and he saw it as an insult? What if he went off and told the entire town that the Priest was a pervert? The thought shook you to your core. 

Fearing the possibility, you approached the bed, glancing at Kieran's sleeping face and gently shaking him awake. Kieran's eyes were half-lidded as he complained about being woken up. "Kieran, I’m getting exhausted, too. Would you mind if I joined you?” Your heart raced as his eyes widened. "Of course not! It’s your bed after all, please—" Lifting the blanket, Kieran invited you in. 

You could feel your face flushing now, the reality of sharing a bed setting in more and more. You hadn’t shared a bed with anyone since childhood and would beg your mom or dad to let you sleep with them after a nightmare. 

Sliding in next to Kieran, you could feel how warm the man was, which made you even more tired. Subconsciously backing into his body as you drifted to sleep, Kieran felt very awake now, not realizing what he had agreed to. 

You were flush against him, and Kieran was mortified that you could feel his shaking. But your breathing slowed down, and hesitantly, Kieran wrapped an arm around you. His hand rests against your chest, feeling your heartbeat. His face is pressed in your hair, breathing in the smell. 

He felt like a pervert, but what other time could he be this close to you? When else could he be in your bed WITH you after being fed a full meal? 

It was like he was still dreaming. 

Kieran remained awake for the next hour as the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting a warm, golden hue across the room. He held you close, feeling your chest's gentle rise and fall as you breathed peacefully beside him. He found comfort in the rhythmic sound of your breath. 

Kieran stretched his arm out, his hand moving to your shoulder, shaking you awake. You groaned, rubbing your eyes as you took in the sight of a sun-kissed Kieran. 

He looked very handsome in the soft light. Shaking the thought from your head, the two of you sat up. Not wanting to leave the warmth of the bed, Dutch had asked for you, so you needed to show. Slipping your shoes back on, unhitched your horses and made your way to this camp, peach pie in hand. 

Stepping into the campground, you were greeted by the number of tents and cases of whiskey and beer. 

You held out the pie you made to Dutch as he greeted you. “Now, what's this?” he asked, admiring the braided crust you had made. 

“I made peach pie! I didn't want to come empty-handed!” You smiled very nervously, wondering why Dutch needed to speak with you.

“My that's very sweet of you! Please set it down there; I've been meaning to ask something of you.” Kieran was pulled away from your side by Mary-Beth and sent you an apologetic look. 

In your nerves, you didn't hear the sound of horses pulling into camp. Or the wolf whistle aimed at you when you leaned over the long table to place the pie in the middle. Cursing yourself for forgetting cutting tools and maybe even a plate. What you did notice was the harsh smack on your ass. You yelped, and a loud voice behind you spoke. 

“What's this?! For my return, you've all gotten Ol’ MacGuire a lady for the night!” your head whipped around to see just in time as he pulled this new man back by his collar by Arthur. 

“That's a damn priest, you moron!” Arthur growls, yanking the man to the side as the sting in your ass begins to fade. Trying to maintain your composure. 

“What sorta god gives a lad such an ass?!” The man's face was pale in horror as he finally realized you weren't a woman in a dress but a man in a priest's garb. Javier had a slight grin, and Charles walked over, “That's Sean MacGuire; I'm sorry about that…” 

“It’s uh okay! Just wasn’t ready for that.” You tried to laugh it off, but his words stuck to your mind. Was it a compliment to have a good ass? What even made a good ass in the first place? Your hand went to rub the dull ache.  

Your thoughts stopped as Dutch directed you to hear a speech by Sean. 

“Mr.MacGuire is back, everyone! Let’s have ourselves a party!” There were a few cheers as the man stood on a soap box, already swaying. 

“Uncle Sean is back! Don’t you worry, Mrs. Grimshaw. I’ll keep the girls in line. If I have to whip them, I will!” A few girls yelled back, and the older woman you assumed was Grimshaw yelled, ‘Someone has to!’ 

Slowly, you felt Dutch rest his hand on the small part of your back. You tried to think nothing of it; surely, in front of 20-odd people, Dutch wouldn’t attempt to follow in Sean’s footsteps of assaulting your ass. 

“And don’t you worry, Mr Pearson, you drunk ol’ shit bag, it’ll be nothing but the FINEST! game in the pot now dead eye MacGuire is back!” You heard a few chuckles as Sean made a slight shooting motion. In Dutch’s laughter, he pulled you closer at the waist. No one else was paying attention, but it felt like, at any moment, one of the women in front of you could turn and see how close Dutch was holding you. 

“And don’t worry about nothing, Mrs. Grimshaw. We will have this running like clockwork. I love you bastards. Have fun…Have lots of fun!” 

Sean stepped off of the box and took a step toward Arthur. “Even you, you grumpy old bastard Arthur!” Arthur shook his head. Dutch’s arm slid away from your waist slowly and deliberately as he grabbed your shoulder to face him. " Would you like to join the festivities? There's plenty of room for one more.” 

“Sure! I hate to say I don’t drink much, but I’m sure I can find something to do!” Dutch smiled, turning away to put on music from his gramophone. 

_____________

“Do you know how to dance, Father (Name)?” Mary-Beth asked, her eyes sparkling with curiosity as she stood at the entrance of Dutch’s tent. The late afternoon sun cast a warm glow around her, highlighting the excitement etched across her features.

With a grin, you extended your hand toward her. “I know enough to seem impressive,” you replied, your voice light and playful. A soft giggle escaped her lips as she took your hand. Slightly bowing together, you began to sway rhythmically beneath the tent's shade. With each movement, you added small, flamboyant spins and twirls that elicited more laughter from her, making her smile even brighter. 

Mary Beth touched your shoulder before saying, “It seems like someone else wants a dance.” You spun Mary-Beth to peak at who she was referring to. From the corner of your eye, you could see Arthur. Who was looking down at his boots and trying to hide that his eyes were staring at the two of you?

”Oh! Well, I’ll let you go to dance with him!” Mary Beth rolled her eyes, and as you bowed, she whispered, “No! He wants to dance with you, and he’s just too. Shy!” Mary-Beth stepped away and held her hand out to offer you, in a way. Your face flushed as Arthur cleared his throat behind you. He took your hand, and you felt breathless, “Is this okay?” For two men to be so close, for two men to slow dance, especially in front of others. 

His hand rested on your waist. “You think this is the worst thing this group of fellas has seen?” Your hand rested on his shoulder with a sigh. A bit of relief washed over you as you swayed to the music. But you were still tense. While these men may not stone you, God could still see you. He could see your flushed face at a simple dance.

Your hand intertwined with Arthurs. Your skin felt hot, and the sway with Mary Beth felt much smoother. But your anxiety keeps you stiff. Arthur was much closer as well, feeling the brush of his stomach against yours; you could feel his belt buckle press into you.

Your mind swirled faster than you could process; he was so close, so very close. Memories of your conversations began flooding back into your mind. You longed to hold Arthur, to look into his eyes that had witnessed horrors beyond your lifetime. You felt giddy now that he was there, lightly twirling you to the music. 

You glanced at Dutch, dancing with a redheaded woman, giggling and smiling. You sighed, relieved. With Arthur’s comment, this must mean Dutch is just exceptionally sociable! Arthur dipped you, causing you to laugh. 

As the music swelled around you, the world outside seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you. Arthur’s grip tightened slightly as he pulled you closer, his face drawing near. You could see the playful glimmer in his eyes, mirroring the warmth in your heart.

Arthur’s lips curled into a gentle smile, and the world around you felt still momentarily. “Maybe we can find a place where we can be alone,” his tone earnest. As the promise hung between you, you felt nervous all over again. Alone, and then what? What did the two of you want so badly, but it could only happen alone?

“Just relax,” he murmured, his breath brushing against your ear. You nodded, forcing yourself to let go of the tension that had been building. His confident yet tender movement made your heartbeat quicken. Each twirl and sway felt like some sort of storybook.

You felt his hand slip slightly lower on your waist, grounding you. Something was intoxicating about being so near him, the heat from his body mingling with the late afternoon sun that bathed you both in its golden light. With every dip and turn, it felt as though God had conspired to give you just this moment.

“Who’s this Arthur?” The voice was harsh and raspy 

“This is Father (Name), John. It's great to see you back up and moving, Marston.” You stopped dancing but still held each other as you looked at John. The man stood sideways, a bottle in his hand. His eyes scanned your body. You noticed the deep scar on his face; it looked fresh, still pink and red. 

“Are you that whorish priest everyone was talking about?” 

“Whore?! What on earth are you talking about?” Arthur released you, grabbing John by the arm and leading him toward the edge of the camp near the cliff. Whore? Is that why you were wanted here? Your throat began to burn as you glanced around the camp. Sean's comment echoed in your mind—arthurs suggestion about being alone together. 

A few people glanced in your direction as you turned to the horses. You spotted Hosea reading by the light of a lantern next to a crate of bottles. You didn’t want to use the whiskey for comfort; that felt wrong. However, your embarrassment took over, and you grabbed one of the tan glass bottles. Hosea looked up and greeted you with a friendly hello.

“Hi, Mister Matthews. Please excuse me,” you stammered as you walked toward the horses. Kieran brushed your horse's mane, smiling until he noticed your anger.

“Father, is everything okay?” His voice was filled with concern.

“I’m just fine, Mister Duffy; if you please, I must leave.” Kieran winced at your use of his last name, and you paused, not wanting to take your frustration out on him.

The rumors about you being a "floozy priest" weren’t new. Tales began to spread when you started working at Valentine and meeting people. Being so young and new to a cattle town didn’t earn you much respect. People were eager to judge, especially when you were just trying to do your job—feeding the hungry and providing clothes and blankets to those in need.

But you did it all privately.

That privacy started the rumors, so you focused more on community-based helping. They were kept in the confessional booth if things had to remain secret.

“Is that what you folks think of me? Am I just some whore for you to laugh at?” Kieran's eyes went wide, and his hands tightened around your saddle.

“No! No, no, of course not! Who told you such a thing?” You tore the lid off the whiskey bottle. It tasted like caramel and honey but burned your throat as you took a gulp.

You caught sight of John and Arthur walking back toward you, their silhouettes becoming clearer against the lowering sun. Arthur, sounding exasperated, said, “Father (Name), this fool is drunk and duller than rust. Don’t take his words to heart, please.”

You coughed roughly, the burn in your throat intensifying as you processed Arthur's words. “Words always start somewhere, Mister Morgan,” you replied, trying to mask the discomfort in your chest.

Kieran shifted his weight, noticing your unease. He’d never seen you mad or annoyed, nor had anyone else. As you mounted the saddle, he wrapped his arms around your waist, pausing your ascent. You felt the solid strength of his grip for someone who looked like he might fly away in the wind—he was surprisingly strong.

“Honest, Father (Name), we don’t think of you as a whore! We know you’re a good man! A great man, please!” You groaned as Arthur pulled you down. Feet back on the ground, you noticed John, still drunk, staring at the sky to avoid eye contact. Arthur hit the man’s shoulder. “Look, Father (Name). I’m sure you’re not a whore. Rumors are the devil…and what have you.” 

You rolled your eyes. Sure, the words “I’m sorry” didn’t leave his lips, but you assumed this was the best you would get. The large gulp of whiskey began to warm you to your core. A fool's words are worth less than half your thoughts if he truly is a fool. “Bah. I suppose I’ll take it. You’re forgiven, Mister Marston. Just watch yourself from now on.” Your mind started to wander as you walked back into camp and heard a soft strumming. Accompanying it was a voice you knew all too well, singing in Spanish.

_______________

"Angel de amor, no comprendo tu pasión." (Angel of love, I don't understand your passion.) You turned the corner and saw Javier sitting with a very disinterested Tilly. However, Tilly perked up at your sight and waved her hand to call you over. You took the spot where Tilly had been sitting as she stood up. “I’ve been needing to use the restroom for the last half hour, but I didn’t want to be rude!” she whispered before scampering away, leaving you comfortable on the carpet.

Javier's strumming continued: “Si la comprendo, no la puedo expresar.” (If I understand it, I cannot express it.)You vaguely understood as he sang, trying to drown out the singing from the large fire across the camp.

“Voy a esconder, tu lánguido gemido alla en la tumba para poder descansar.” (I’m going to hide your weak moan there in the grave so I can rest.) You were mindful to keep the bottle in your hand and limit yourself from just sipping from now on. But the drink still burned as it went down, causing you to groan. 

“Yo no siento el que me hayas querido.” (I no longer feel that you love me) Javier's eyes were closed as he sang, “Yo no siento el que me hayas amado.” (I no longer feel that I was once beloved)

“Solo siento que me hayas combiado hombre mama inferior que yo.” (I’m sorry you changed me into a man inferior to who I am) Javier held the note, singing the rest of the song much softer as it ended. You hummed, “What a sad song, Javier. It’s beautiful, though.” You held out the bottle of whiskey, and a look of surprise took over his face.

”I thought men like you weren't allowed to indulge Father (Name). You said you don’t even like people who drink.” He took the bottle from your hand and stared intensely at the lip of the bottle. 

“Yeah, well, sometimes you gotta be a fool and repent the next day.” You felt so warm as Javier took a slow drink from the bottle. “Plus, I don’t hate people that drink. It’s just a vice that makes men the most stupid.”

Your eyes were focused on his lips wrapped around the bottle. Was he savoring the taste? It was sweet, but the burn overwhelmed the flavor before it settled. Finally handing the bottle back to you, Javier grinned, “I’m trying to taste more than just the whiskey, Father (Name).” 

Your mind went blank trying to process what he said. But he began to strum again, this time with a much more upbeat rhythm. “Besame, besame mucho.” (Kiss me, kiss me a lot). You swirled the bottle in your hand, feeling the weight of the liquid shift in the bottle. 

“Como. si fuera esta noche la ultima vez” (as if tonight was the last night) 

”Besame besame mucho.Que tengo miedo a perderte, perderte despues.” (I’m afraid of losing, losing you later.)His gaze met yours, steady and unwavering. You took another sip from the bottle in the same spot Javier had taken his sip.

”quiero tenerte muy cerca. Mirarme en tus ojos, estar junto ati.” (I want to have you very close. Look into your eyes and be next to you) You leaned on your hand, watching Javier leaning closer, still playing. The song made less and less sense, and your mind could not keep up and translate what little you would understand sober. Was whiskey supposed to be this strong? 

”Piensa que tal vez mañana. Estaré muy lejos, muy lejos de aquí.” (I’m thinking tomorrow we can be very, very far from here.) Javier was very close, and the smell of the whiskey was strong on both of your breaths. “I’m not sure if I should be so close to you, Father…” his tone teased as you realized just how alone the two of you were. No one was walking by but a very drunk Karen whose mission was not to watch the two of you.

The strumming had stopped; you two were very close. Javier closed his eyes for a second, collecting himself. Your noses touched; you didn’t want to fight it anymore.

“Father (Name)! I want to talk to ya!” you pulled away with a gasp, feeling your heart pound in your chest. Javier let out a low groan, taking the hat off of his head and running his hands through his hair. He was frustrated but trying to keep himself composed. “Sean… you couldn’t have waited? We are in the middle of something important.” Sean stood with a hand on his hip, slightly swaying.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Just let me get a word in, eh? It’s not tha best time, but I gotta clear the air here, Father. Do ya mind?” Not waiting for a response, Sean grabbed your arm, guiding you away from Javier. You dusted off the skirt of your cassock, trying not to glance back at Javier's longing eyes. Sean took you near the horses just past the fence into the wooded area. Your body still tingled from the closeness you just had with Javier.

“Look, Father (Name); I just want ta say sorry for smacking you on tha arse. Honest to god, I thought you were a lass to accompany me for the night!” a nervous grin spread across his face. “I didn’t mean ta come off all brash.” there was still sway in Sean's stance, but much less than earlier. Sean held out the whiskey bottle he was drinking and held it to your lips, tilting it for you.

“It was an honest mistake, Mister Macguire! I was more surprised you commented on it at all.” You laughed as Sean's face held a confused expression. “I mean, you can’t much tell cause of da skirt, but” his hands reached for the loose cloth, handing you the half-full whiskey bottle.

He pulled the fabric forward, your body flush against him as the skirt now did nothing to hide your ass. That was some sort of marvel to behold. Sean's head was over your shoulder, staring. “Ah! Now, would ya look at that! Magnificent! Like tha peaks of the Derryveagh!”

Perhaps you were some whore, because instead of breaking away, you only yelped at the exposure. “Is.. is that good?” “You’re damn right. It's good! Please allow me.” You weren’t sure why Sean would ask permission but did what he wanted anyway, but there was no point bringing it up now as his hands groped your ass.

“Much more than a handful; this is what any man dreams of! If ya start showing off more, I think more people would stop by for Sunday service!” Sean howled with laughter, still holding your ass. You could feel Sean’s hard-on pressed into your thigh. Close contact with a man you didn’t know beyond his name felt much more manageable on your nerves than your almost kiss with Javier.

“That’ll get ya warmed up for ol’ Javier; I tell ya, I’m a bit jealous whoever gets the peak at ya first! Unless you’re willing to wait for Mr.Macguire.” You whined at his words; no one other than Arthur had been this close to you physically or spoke to you like this before. His hands mushed the fat on your ass one last time before letting go and stumbling back to camp, talking to himself about Macguire Junior not being ready for all that.

Your breathing came out in huffs. Taking the momentary alone time to breathe. The cold air hardly phased you. The whiskey is in full swing, keeping you warm and fuzzy. “Hey there.” You leaped a foot in the air. Charles emerged from outside of the camp, holding a rifle in his hands.

“Mister Smith! We must stop meeting like this.” your heart pounded. Charles laughed lightly, moving closer. “Why aren’t you at the party? They have you on patrol duty?” You adjusted your skirt; Sean left it very wrinkled with his grabbing.

“No, I just leave the parting to the professionals.” Charles rested the gun, the barrel aimed at the ground. You hummed softly to yourself, your gaze fixed on the vibrant tapestry of trees surrounding you. Suddenly, a flash of movement caught your eye—a small rabbit darting through the underbrush, desperate to escape the sharp pursuit of a fox. You felt a pang of sympathy for the vulnerable creature. “Aww, poor thing,” you murmured, shaking your head.

Standing beside you, Charles chuckled lightly, his voice laced with an edge. “Looks familiar,” he remarked, a knowing glint in his dark eyes. You couldn’t help but let out a nervous laugh, shaking your head slightly. “I’m not sure what you mean, Mister Smith,” you replied, meeting his gaze.

Charles took a deep breath, the sound almost reverberating in the stillness of the forest. You leaned against a tree, crickets chirping as you revealed in the calm. “I tried the pie you made; it was great. I have never had one like it before.” Before you could stop, a big smile took over your face.

“That makes me very happy to hear about Mister Smith. I spent a lot of the day working on it!”

Charles inched closer, the subtle heat of his presence sending a thrill down your spine. “Oh, I could tell,” he said, his words sliding smoothly into your ear like a secret. “The crust was perfect, but what really got to me…” He let his arm brush against yours, just the slightest touch, but it was enough to send a shiver through you. “I could taste you in it.”

A surge of warmth bloomed in your chest, spreading like wildfire. Goosebumps danced across your skin, your pulse quickening. The words you had once playfully spoken to Javier echoed back in your mind, uncomfortably vivid.

“I’m sure that pie tastes much better than me,” you laughed nervously, but the sound was shaky, vulnerable. “I probably just taste like skin and sweat.”

And sin, you thought, the word lingering on your tongue, burning in your chest. If there was a test of your devotion, you knew right then you had failed it, miserably. The temptation was overwhelming, and you could feel it, as undeniably palpable as the heat rising between you.

Charles reached out, cupping your face, and you happily leaned into his strong hand. He pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Maybe when you’re sober, we’ll have this conversation, rather (Name). I want you to remember.” These were the most words you’ve heard Charles speak since meeting him. Your eyes studied his face. You couldn’t tell by his face alone, but he was nervous.

“I’ll be much too nervous without the whiskey, Mister Smith. You’re much too handsome.” Your speech was more slurred than you would’ve liked. He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, and his other hand toys with the gun barrel to keep busy.

You stood up, no longer leaning against the tree for support. You realized Sean’s bottle was still in your hand and took another sip. You should probably return it to him.

“Sean might be a loudmouth bastard, but this is one thing he and I can agree on.” Charles leads you up the small hill back to camp, his hand very low on your back. You assumed he meant you ass but just didn’t want to say that out loud.

Charles bit you a goodnight, walking back into the wooded area; your eyes caught Hosea still at the table; your legs were aching, so why not sit?

“Good evening, Mister Matthews!” You settled onto the wooden stool, the whiskey bottle resting beside you. Hosea looked up, a warm smile spreading across his face as he set aside the paper he’d been reading. “You’re awful chipper, Father (Name). Glad to see you better from earlier.” You chuckled, remembering how dramatic you’d felt. With a soft sigh, your hand rested against your palm, taking in Hosea's relaxed demeanor. “I’m too old for this, Mister Matthews,” you admitted, stretching your back. “I should have gotten this energy out 20 years ago. Not when my back hurts from even just sitting wrong.”

Hosea laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners, radiating warmth and familiarity. He placed a supportive hand on your shoulder, the warmth of his touch sending a comforting flutter through you, almost like a gentle spark igniting something deep within. With a slight grin, he held out a small, weathered bottle toward you. “Homemade tonic. Trust me, you’re going to feel it tomorrow,” he said, his voice filled with a teasing undertone.

The bottle was unmarked, its surface smooth yet slightly worn from years of handling, hinting at the loving care that went into its creation. As you accepted it, a rush of gratitude surged through you, and your heart swelled just a bit. You met his gaze, finding reassurance in his warm brown eyes. “Thank you, Mister Matthews. I'll be sure to keep this on me,” you replied, tucking the bottle safely into your pocket.

“You’ve still got some youth left in you, Father," he continued a hint of mischief in his tone. “Giving up all those freedoms so young was bound to catch up with you at some point.”

You chuckled, then sighed, “It's funny. I thought I was BLESSED by Jesus Christ not to have sex matter to me. Never interested in women, just focused on God!” The laughter dissipated into a groan as you pressed your face into your hand, overwhelmed by the weight of your emotions. Hosea chuckled softly, patting your shoulder in a comforting gesture.

“I thought I was different from everyone else, that I was…special, capable of helping people find solace within the church.” This admission made you feel vulnerable, and you slumped against the table—the wooden surface, cool against your skin, grounding you amidst the swirling thoughts.

“You’re plenty special, Father (Name). Look around—you’ve got a group of outlaws clamoring to be in a church!” Hosea’s voice was gentle yet encouraging, his hand now gingerly rubbing your back. The scent of peppermint lingered in the air as he leaned closer, adding to the warmth of his presence.

He described Arthur, sharing tales of how he used to be much more argumentative and brash. “But since he first wandered off to see you, he’s changed. He’s been throwing himself into camp chores, even showing kindness to everyone around him. Just the other day, he went out of his way to get young Lenny a pocket watch after the poor boy lost his old one,” Hosea recounted; his admiration for Arthur is evident in his tone.

A sense of pride and purpose puffed up as you listened. Yeah, you were helping someone be better. Sure, it was an outlaw who still did the jobs he needed to survive, but as a person, he was seemingly better. Of course, Arthur told you this himself, but the confirmation was just as lovely.

You looked at tha table and saw that the pie you had brought was almost completely gone, a smile tugged at your lips. Hoping everyone was able to get a taste before it ran out. Turning your attention back to Hosea, you noticed his silver hair looked incredibly soft in the light. “He even went hunting with me to get a 1000-pound bear.” You sat up, staring at Hosea with wide eyes, “No kidding, you went out to catch a bear that big!” Hosea got a puff in his chest, “Sure did! It’s not the first time I stared death in the eye, and just like any other, I did not falter.”

You stared at Hosea in awe, imagining him taking on such a large bear. “I didn’t know I’d been in the presence of such an amazing hunter. Did you end up killing this bear?” The prideful look on Hosea's face remained as he let out a confident nope! “But I and Arthur scared it away back into the woods.” you laughed at the story and yourself for believing it. “You’re too funny, Mister Matthews, quite the silver tongue. I imagine you’ve gotten many people under your spell with that.” You stoop up from the stool, feeling much better. “What category can I put you under?” Hosea's hand grabbed yours, stopping you before stepping away.

You lifted Hosea's hands to your lips, “I am utterly bewitched.” pressing a kiss to his thinner hand, you walked toward the small scout's fire, spotting Kieran.

“Mind if I sit with you?” Kieran looked at you nervously before scooting over. Your mind still buzzed as you stared at the fire. “I’m sorry about getting aggressive with you, Kieran. I just thought those rumors were behind me now.” Kieran stared up at you, watching you intently as you sat on your knees next to him, taking his hands in yours, “Could you find it in your heart to forgive me?”

Kieran's face flushed, the sight of you on your knees and the warmth of your hands wrapping around his. Even just the fact that you were apologizing made him stir below the belt. “It’s okay, Father (Name). I, uh, I’m sure no one would be too happy to be called a whore, least of all you .” you sniffled, feeling very overwhelmed again. You pulled your hands from his, reaching up instead to cup his face, the roughness of his beard grazing your palms. The sensation was grounding, and you felt a surprising sense of comfort. “You’ll let me make it up to you?”

His breath hitched, his eyes searching yours for any sign of doubt, but all he found was a quiet, steady resolve. “I’d like that,” he replied, his voice soft but earnest. His face is bright red as you lean in closer to him.

“I just want to make things right with you.” His breathing mixed with yours

And then, without a word, his lips brushed against yours. You froze for a heartbeat, feeling the softness of his kiss, before your lips responded, deepening the kiss. His hand moved to cup the back of your neck, bringing you closer as the kiss grew more urgent, more frantic. You could feel the heat of his touch seeping into your skin, but you couldn’t feel anything else; the world around you seemed to fade until all that remained was the press of his lips against yours.

You melted into him, your hands finding their way into his hair, pulling him closer. His usual hat fell off of his head. It was slow and tender at first, but the more you kissed him, the less you worried about your lack of experience, just needing to feel him against you. The warmth of his body was the same as when you slept next to each other. So comforting.

When the kiss finally broke, both of you were breathless, your foreheads pressed together as you tried to catch your breath. His hands rested gently on your waist, and you couldn’t help but smile, but before you could say something, a familiar smell of a cigar was in the air.

“Kieran, my boy, would you mind checking on The Count? Somethings got him agitated.”

Kieran muttered something under his breath, but he nodded. “Right, Dutch. I’ll do that.”

He turned back to you, offering a small, apologetic smile. "I’ll be right back," he murmured, as if he were torn between staying and doing his duty. His eyes held yours for a moment longer before he stood, his hands slipping from your waist with reluctance.

You watched him go, your knees beginning to ache from the position. "Well, well…" Dutch’s smooth, low voice seemed to hang in the air. You looked up to find him leaning against a nearby boulder, his gaze fixed on you with amusement. His smile was sly, almost predatory. "Seems like you’ve got the boy all worked up, don’t you?"

“My mind got away from me. Uh could you help me up?” You held your hands out, the ache worsening. He casually pushed off the rock, his boots crunching on the ground as he stepped toward you. His presence was commanding in an unsettling and captivating way.

"Oh, I think this arrangement is just fine," he said, his tone dropping slightly, its weight on your shoulders. His eyes flickered to your lips before meeting your gaze again. “There’s something about you, isn’t there? Something... irresistible. Something just real special about you. Your attention, has all my men whipped.” His eyes trailed over your face, lingering on your lips, then meeting your eyes again with a fire in his gaze. "You know, Kieran’s a good kid. But I can’t help but wonder... does he know what he’s gotten into?"

Some of you still felt uncomfortable with how effortlessly he said these things. You couldn’t deny that Dutch’s charisma was magnetic, but you weren’t sure where it was all going. "He knows, I think; I’m not even sure I know," you replied, your voice steady, though you felt the heat of his stare still lingering on you. You groaned, the locking of your knees almost becoming unbearable.

Dutch’s smile grew a little wider, a glint of amusement dancing in his eyes. "Well, that’s good," he said, stepping even closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Because I’d hate to think he’s got a monopoly on you." His hand brushed lightly against your arm, his fingers grazing your skin in a touch that was all too deliberate as he helped you up finally. "Dutch, don’t start some odd competition about me."

He chuckled darkly, leaning just a little closer, the warmth of his presence almost overwhelming now. "Oh, I never start something I don’t intend to finish, darling," he said, his voice low and playful. "But that’s a story for another time, I suppose."

The air between you seemed to crackle with tension. The firelight danced off his face as he stepped back, his eyes never leaving yours. Your mind returned to the redheaded woman he had been dancing and smiling with just hours earlier. Why would he speak to you like this?

Dutch gave you a final knowing look before he straightened up, brushing a hand through his hair. “Well, I’ll leave you to your thoughts. But just know this—if you ever want to talk more... you know where to find me.” Your knees popped as you stretched, the pain subsiding slowly.

You saw Arthur stepping out of a tent. He nodded his head to you, and you walked over, hearing strumming again. Kieran followed behind you, now wearing the jacket that you had mended. The night had to be nearing an end as you saw all three women fast asleep, two men you hadn’t run into snoring next to Hosea, who was still reading by low light.

The singing was lovely as you approached the fire. Kieran guided your ever-swaying bottle to sit on the log without falling. Sean’s voice was quite pleasant as he sang with an older man you didn’t get the name of.

You didn’t try to hear the song's words; the fire was so bright you kept your eyes shut, letting it go through one ear out of the other. Kieran hummed the song next to you, and Arthur’s voice joined for a few lines, the whiskey letting you forget for a moment that each man had heard those rumors about you. You smiled as the song came to an end. You wanted nothing more than to lie down in your bed. Like your pillows and blankets called your name.

Your eyes were half-lidded. “I should head home now,” you smiled at Kieran, going to stand. “Thank you for having me; I've never had a night like this.”

Arthurs's hand pressed into your chest, stopping your walking. “I think it's safer for you to sleep here for the night. Yer vulnerable out there this late, drunk.” you scoffed, turning to face Arthur. “Am I that much safer here?” one of Arthur's hands went to his waist, asking just what you meant by that.

“You all invited me here, t—to make me impure! Other than dear Kieran here.” Your hand reached for Kieran's head, clumsily petting his head and mumbling about his hair being soft. Which Kieran slightly revealed in the public display of tenderness.

“Next time yer here, we aren't givin' you whiskey. Seems not to let you think properly.” Arthur huffed, holding your collar to stop your attempts to walk away.

“I’m thinking more clearly than ever, Mister Morgan!” you exclaimed, struggling to break free from Arthur’s grip as you cast your gaze downward, feeling the weight of embarrassment. He held on firmly, not letting you retreat.

“We don’t believe that (Name). It was just some gossip the girls picked up from town, and trust me, they didn’t take it seriously either,” Arthur replied, his eyes softening as he studied your downcast face, betraying the effort you were making to hold back tears.

To him, your expression resembled that of a puppy being picked up by the scruff of its neck. A deep sigh escaped his lips as he realized how much this affected you. “Look, we know you’re a man of the cloth,” he said, his tone more reassuring now. “So just take it easy! We’re bad men, not evil.” You sighed; his words didn’t quite sink in with your state, and you still felt vulnerable.

“If you need to be home that badly, we will take you.” His warmth was as comforting as that sleepy feeling.

The next chapter is a choose-your-own-adventure! if you want the updates as they're posted, head to my Ao3! or if you want them all at once, they will be posted soon!

[sailing-ever-west]

I think he should be embarrassing about her

[earl-grey-crow]

~groovy~

[harvestmoth]

heres my one page thesis on why hinomori mafuyu real

[lordsardine]

.

[sincerelyneo]

juno | l.hc

“one of me is cute, but two though…?”

💿now playing: juno by sabrina carpenter

❯ summary: Kids were never really something you thought about. But then you saw your sexy as fuck boyfriend playing uncle and now you can't stop thinking about giving him a baby of his own. What can you say...your hormones are high.

❯ pairings: haechan x fem!reader

❯ genre: smut, established relationship

❯ words: 2.7k

❯ tags: 18+ minors dni!, unprotected sex (don't do this!), swearing, breeding and pregnancy kink, possessiveness, dirty talk, begging, praise, creampie, slight angst not really idk, fluff, reader uses she/her pronouns, literally just the reader getting baby fever from seeing hyuck with kids (very real el oh el.)

an: i know this is like my third haechan post in a week, but i literally don’t care. sue me x

You didn’t want kids. Well, that’s not true. You were indifferent to kids. 

That was until you saw your boyfriend with them. You didn’t think you could be more attracted to him, but then he had to go and check off the "great with kids" box. Maybe it’s just his playful side, but Lee Donghyuck is just so good with them.

And being forced to attend his niece’s first birthday party made you realise it. Honestly, you’d never given much thought to the idea of kids—cute yes, ready to give up endless nights of sleep, no. 

But the minute after you walked through his childhood family home and were done greeting his parents and siblings, a swarm of kids ran at him, hugging his legs and stomach. And he just melted into them, so gentle and excited. It was cute and made you smile. 

From then it was him letting his oldest niece cover his tanned cheeks in blush and stickers, to tossing a ball with his nephew after he announced he made the basketball team—and don’t even get started on him poking the chubby cheeks of his youngest niece, her soft giggles filling the backyard of the party. 

It was like he was in his element—soft, loving, and completely at ease. And even though his nieces and nephews had other uncles and aunts, they’d always say Uncle Hyuck was their favourite—even if they weren’t supposed to.

You watch him from the patio door in the kitchen, overhearing him tell his dad he’s “too young to be having the adult conversations,” which was really code for ‘let me play with the kids.’ 

Running around, telling jokes, creating games. It had your stomach turning and—were your heart strings being pulled? Seeing this absolute perfect man, so caring and playful, living just to make those little ones laugh and smile, had you seriously considering the sleepless nights that might come with having some of your own.

Wait. 

“He’s good with them, huh?”

You jolt, turning to see Hyuck’s sister standing behind you.

“Uh... yeah, I guess so,” you shrug. She steps beside you, and the two of you stand there, watching your boyfriend bounce his niece in his arms, soothing her gently.

She giggles, and you glance over at Hyuck’s sister again. “What?”

“Nothing,” she shrugs. “Just... you’re looking at him like you’re ready to add to the Lee family name.”

You gasp. “I am not!”

She gives you a knowing look, and you bite your lip, eyes shifting back to Hyuck. This time, he’s handing his niece a sippy cup, tapping her nose. Your chest tightens.

“Okay... I suppose he is good with them.”

Hyuck’s sister nods, humming in agreement. “He always has been. With every younger sibling, every cousin—even when I had my first daughter, Hyuck was the most excited.”

He’s sitting on the grass now, all his nieces and nephews swarming him, tickling him. He’s being extra dramatic, letting the younger ones tug at his hair just to make them laugh. You stare, warmth and wholesomeness filling you.

“He’d make a great dad, Y/N.”

The statement is completely sobering.

“Uh,” you stammer, running a hand through your hair. “I don’t know. We haven’t really talked about it.”

That’s not entirely true. You had spoken about it—once. You’d told him it wasn’t something you had planned for but weren’t necessarily opposed to, and the conversation had never come up again.

Hyuck’s sister blinks at you, clearly confused. “That’s crazy. Hyuck’s always said he wants to be a dad.”

Clearly. 

There’s no denying that. It’s so obvious—every second he’s cupping up the kids, tickling them, teasing them. He looks so profoundly happy, so perfect. And it suddenly clicks for you.

This could be yours. Forever. He wants it. And now... you’re starting to think you want it, too. Him, this, forever. His kids. Your kids.

“Y/N! Y/N!” one of the younger kids calls, waving you over from across the backyard. “Can you play with us? We need more people to play the monsters. Uncle Hyuckie can’t do it on his own.”

And just like that, you’re being pulled away from the baby fever conversation and coaxed into joining them—not that it took much convincing. Your thoughts were starting to scare you a little. You’d never seriously thought about kids—until now.

Because you’d never seen Hyuck look more attractive than when he was playing dad.

“I can’t believe she’s one already,” Hyuck beams from where he’s stretched out on your bed. He’s been talking about the party nonstop since you got home. “Did you see the little bows in her hair? So fucking cute.”

You glance at him through the vanity mirror where you’re sitting, watching the way his face lights up, animated and so full of joy. There’s a warmth in your eyes, your lips curved into a soft smile as you take him in. He notices, raising an eyebrow.

“What’s that look for?” 

You stand and walk over to him, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to his lips. His eyebrows knit together, more confused now.

“Y/N, what’s going on?”

You smile, sidestepping his question with one of your own. “Did you have fun today?”

“Yess…?” he replies, but there’s a trace of suspicion in his voice.

“Your family’s really nice.”

“Oh, are they now?” He squints playfully. “I saw you talking to my sister. I hope she wasn’t embarrassing me—she loves doing that.”

You shake your head with a giggle. “She wasn’t.”

“Okay…” he draws out. “Then what was she saying?” 

“That you’d be a good dad. That you want to be a dad.” 

Hyuck’s eyes widen and you mentally add this moment to the short list of times your boyfriend has been rendered completely speechless—still countable on one hand.

He coughs, his cheeks turning pink. “S-She said that?”

You nod, biting your lip to keep from laughing.

“And…what did you say back?”

You spread his legs out on the bed so you can slide between them, sitting there and looking up at him as he waits, eager for your response. He’s so cute like this—adorable, even—clearly dying to hear what you thought.

“I didn’t respond,” you admit honestly.

You catch the flicker of hurt in his eyes, but he covers it with a laugh—though it’s not genuine. You can tell he’s trying to brush it off, trying to pretend that he’d be okay with the possibility that you might not want that kind of future with him.

“She shouldn’t have said that,” he mumbles, embarrassed. “I used to talk about it a lot as a kid. I don’t really think like that now. I can’t, you know… because of my job.”

“So you don’t want kids because of your job?” You ask. The tone in your voice takes him by surprise because now you’re the one sounding hurt. 

“Baby... is this a trick question?” He laughs nervously.

You shake your head, crossing your arms across your chest. “No Hyuck. But I want you to answer it truthfully.” 

He shrugs, looking unsure. “I don’t know. I haven’t really thought about it.”

“You’re lying.”

He lets out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his hair. “Baby, I don’t know what you want me to say—”

“The truth,” you insist. 

He pauses, his gaze softening. “I love you, Y/N. You said kids weren’t really part of your plan, and that’s okay,” he begins, his voice steady but sincere. “And yeah, maybe I always kind of thought kids would be in mine, but then I met you. And you became my plan.”

You grab a hold of his hand and squeeze. It draws a genuine smile from him before he speaks again. 

“I know we’ve never talked about it since. But I’m fine with anything—as long as it’s with you.”

You smile, his comment pulling at your heartstrings because you feel the exact same way. 

“Those kids absolutely adore you, Hyuck,” you say and he gives a half smile. 

“Well, I am their favourite Uncle.” 

You trail a soft finger up and down the naked skin of his arm. His eyes follow your touch and that furrowed expression is on his face again. 

“Y/N what’s going on with you? You’re confusing me—”

“You know—” you cut him off. “I think you’d be a great dad.” 

He stares at you, properly taking you in. He’s never seen this side of you before, and you’ve never given him a compliment quite like that before. The thought of you being into the idea of him as a dad… well, he didn’t expect it to turn him on this much. Maybe it’s the way your fingers brush his arm? Yeah no, it’s not.

“Today made me realise something,” you say, shifting to straddle his hips, your arms wrapping around his neck now. He raises a curious brow, waiting. “You look so hot with kids. The thought of you being a dad is so fucking hot, Hyuck.”

Hyuck smiles at the confession, and his hands move to grip your ass as he ground your hips forward on himself. You let out a small gasp of surprise as you feel him. 

“Please don’t joke like that, Y/N,” he whines, eyes squeezing shut. “Because I’ve been thinking about you being the mother of my kids since the day I met you.”

You giggle, biting your lip to stifle the soft moans escaping you as he grinds you slowly against his growing bulge.

“Well, why don’t you do something about it then,” you tease breathlessly, feeling the hardness of him through his sweatpants.

Hyuck’s mouth parts, caught somewhere between awe and shock, but before he can question how serious you are, your lips capture his, and your tongue is slipping inside his mouth to deepen the kiss.

The groan you both share is synchronised, and it’s all the encouragement he needs to flip you over, hovering above you with a renewed sense of urgency to make promise of your teasing. 

His fingers hook into your panties, sliding them off as you shift upward against your pillows, tossing your nightgown aside. Hyuck strips out of his own clothes, desperate to press his bare skin against yours, his need overwhelming any sense of patience.

He kisses you back roughly, passionately. Fuelled by your impossible hotness and readiness to be fucked—fucked by him. Your tongue dips deeper and deeper into his mouth, never satisfied, craving more of him. You cling to him, your hands and legs moving over his skin, desperate to feel every inch. Your hips roll up, slickness coating his shaft, causing a rippling gasp to leave his mouth. 

Hyuck pulls back with dark eyes. You—his girl—naked and desperate under him, begging him to do something about his baby fever—your baby fever. It’s the hottest shit he’s ever seen. His new favourite thing. His obsession. He loves seeing you like this, he decides—so willing, so desperate for him, for his cock. Needing him to bring you the pleasure only he can give. And he’ll make sure you remember that once you're carrying his child.

The image floods his mind—your stomach growing, swelling with his baby, the glow in your smile as you hold his child. A family, all with him. Only him. Because you want his kids.

The last thought pushes him over the edge, and with a low growl, he bites down on your neck, lips and teeth claiming your skin. He wants you marked by him—like always—but this time it’s different. It’s possessive. Primal. Feral. His saliva wet on your neck, dark bruises blooming over your breasts, his fingers burning prints into your hips, and his seed buried deep inside your soaking wet cunt.

His cock jumps when you roll your hips again, your whimpers causing him to groan and eyes roll back. You sound so desperate. Desperate to make him your forever. 

“Hyuck—” you sob as his teeth graze your nipple, sending it hardening under his touch. “Please, I need to feel you.”

His eyes sparkle with lust as he drapes your legs over his waist and leans down, capturing your mouth in a long, needy kiss. He aligns himself with your slick pussy, your fingers clawing at his back as he slowly eases into you. He fills you completely, lifting your hips to bury himself deeper.

“So fucking pretty like this,” he mumbles, pulling away to admire the way you take his thick cock. “Taking me so well, always so good for me, aren’t you, baby?”

You moan as his cock hits every spot inside you—so deep, so hard, so good. Each thrust drags along your walls in a way that feels divine.

“Can’t wait until you’re mine, so full of me,” he whispers, kissing your neck. You whimper, your walls clenching at his words, urging him to quicken his pace. “Do you want that, baby? Want my cum inside this pretty pussy?”

“Yes—fuck yes—please.”

“Say it for me,” he requests softly, a gentle yet desperate edge in his voice. “Please tell me.”

“I want to be yours; make me yours,” you breathe out.

Hyuck's gaze drops to your lips, entranced by the words spilling from them. He thrusts harder, your nails digging into his skin as you pull him closer. Your cunt swallows his cock whole, turning his thrusts sloppy, and he groans.

You’re practically sobbing with how fast he’s driving into you, so close to seeing stars.

“You’re so good at taking me,” he praises, his breath ragged. “Gonna make me fill you.”

You squeeze around him, and the thought of cumming inside you sends a shiver through his thighs, making his breathing stutter.

“Yes! Fuck, please keep going,” You pant. 

“Want you so full of me that it’s dripping down your leg. And then I’ll push it back in when I fuck you again.”

Your breaths grow louder and quicker, matching his as you both teeter on the edge. He kisses you deeply, your mouths suffocating each other as you grip his soft brown hair. His fingers dig into your hips, holding you tight.

“Hyuck—I’m gonna cum.”

“So fucking good, baby,” he moans in awe. “I’m going to fill you with my cum. I want you overflowing with my seed—fuck!” He grunts hoarsely, his body tightening with tension.

Your walls shatter around him, tightening and fluttering on his cock as you cum. Hyuck holds you close, so intimately, holding himself deep inside you as he feels the first spurts of his cum shooting from his cock. 

He doesn’t stop, his hips still moving gently, making sure you take everything, softening each thrust with tender kisses along your bare shoulders. You sigh dreamily, fingers threading through his hair, and he smiles, still half-hard inside you. You’re exhausted, and the sight of your sleepy expression makes his heart twist. Leaning down, he presses a soft kiss to your lips, and for a moment, you stay like that—so close, so intimate.

But as the post-orgasm bliss begins to fade, a flicker of panic flashes in his eyes.

“Fuck—” he mutters, pulling himself off of you quickly. There’s a gnawing feeling in his chest, a sudden guilt. “Y/N, I’m really sorry, I got caught up in the moment. Do you want me to run to the store—”

“No.” You shake your head and grab his arm, keeping him close. “I don’t want you to. If that’s okay…”

His eyes darken with lust before a slow smile spreads across his face.

“Y-yeah… that’s more than okay with me,” he says, nodding eagerly.

“Who knows?” You shrug with a teasing grin. “I might not even get pregnant this time.”

His eyebrows shoot up. “This time?”

You nod confidently. “Yeah, this time. Because we’re going to keep doing this until I am pregnant, Hyuck.”

His grin widens as he climbs back into bed, pulling you into his arms.

“I never thought I’d hear you say that, especially not when I woke up this morning,” he laughs, pressing soft kisses along your neck.

You giggle, leaning into his touch. “What can I say? Seeing you in dad mode made me so fucking horny.”

[fanged-fanfics]

☆ "You Can Have My Last Name" — Zaunites x GN Reader ☆

Genre: Fluff || they/them pronouns for reader || No warnings needed

A/N: I'm pretty sure this idea is like. Everywhere by now. But people from Zaun/the Undercity don't really have surnames so plot is basically what if Reader offered up theirs. Simple and cute type stuff idk I wanted some fluff

──────.𖥔 ݁ ˖˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ──────

Viktor

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Mentioned the nature of his lack of a surname rather casually, while venting about how Piltover kept trying to say his paperwork was 'invalid' for lacking one. He explained to you that it was common for anyone in the Undercity, and that most from there didn't have one at all

ᯓᡣ𐭩 More confused than anything when you offer yours, or he at least pretends to be. The truth is the idea flustered him coming from you so casually, so to cope he acted like he didn't know what you were implying

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Thinks about it for several weeks afterwards, subconsciously mulls over how your name would sound paired with his in his mind. He writes it down a few times too, just to test it out. Finds out pretty quickly that he likes the sound of it

Vi

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Doesn't miss the implications a bit, as a matter of fact she IMMEDIATELY flirts back by asking if you'd really give your precious name to any pretty face you come across

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Teases you about the idea relentlessly any time the subject of names is brought up, or in any way she can really. Often makes jokes that she's gonna make a fool out of the name

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Secretly actually very honored that you'd offer it up to her but she doesn't feel like admitting that yet, you're gonna have to deal with jokey teasing for a good while first

Jinx

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Snarkily says she wouldn't be a good fit for your name to hide the fact that she really doesn't think she deserves to be considered a part of your life

ᯓᡣ𐭩 "Ohh, you might be crazy too if you're gonna give it to someone like me"

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Feels kinda bad that she wouldn't have anything like that to offer you in return. She loves the idea of having a family to belong to again, but her own self doubt gets in the way of admitting that to herself

Ekko

ᯓᡣ𐭩 "Oh- uh- what??"

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Genuinely very caught off guard. Not at all in a bad way, he just doesn't know how to respond to such a sudden and blatant flirt. Quickly tries to think of something to say as you're chuckling and reassuring him it's okay

ᯓᡣ𐭩 He ends up telling you through his fluster that it's not really gonna bring you any good to proudly announce a Zaunite as part of your family name. But in the end, he gives you a soft smile and says it's a nice thought he isn't against

Sevika

ᯓᡣ𐭩 "Is that so?"

ᯓᡣ𐭩 More keen on the idea than you'd might think- tells you it wouldn't be such a bad idea, but you'd have to prove it's a name worth adopting first, teasingly daring you to make it a name you'd both be proud to wear

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Tells you to reconsider once or twice, but mostly because she loves seeing how determined you get when defending her right to bear your name

Silco

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Doesn't pick up on what you're implying at first at all, simply tells you that isn't how that works and you're talking nonsense

ᯓᡣ𐭩 You have to prod into the implications a little more to get him to finally register what you're actually trying to say. It takes him a moment, but when he catches on he falls silent for a while

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Ends up mildly tripping over his words while telling you he's not really someone to give such an important thing to, and that you should get a better head on your shoulders and keep focused (largely to hide the fact that the offer genuinely caught him off guard. He's never gonna stop thinking about it)

Vander

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Actually not against the idea. Seems to chuckle it off at first, but once he realizes you're being serious he fondly mulls over the idea with you while cleaning up for the night

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Recognizes the idea might not be very feasible, but hey, what's wrong with having hope? Everyone's allowed to have dreams to chase, right? No harm in chasing this one together, then

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Promises that once things are settled down enough that he'll try to make it happen with you. As long as the kids he takes in are all alright with you, of course

[rafesangelita]

reader wrapping herself up like a little present and rafe unwrapping her <3

warnings: fluff, suggestive ending

a/n: i feel like i’ve seen this be a trend before on tiktok?? idk but this req is so cute <33 ty anon!

you don’t know why your boyfriend insisted on you never getting anything for him when it came to special occasions like his birthday or christmas. of course, you never listened to him when it came down to it, always surprising him with a new watch or something you know he’ll never buy for himself like a new gadget he’s been talking about, or god forbid some actual skincare. you two had been discussing who’s house both of you will be at for the holidays when you asked him what he wanted for christmas this year.

“okay, so i’m thinking we go to your mom’s house for thanksgiving because rose can’t cook to save her life, and then we could go to tanneyhill for christmas, how does that sound?” you laughed, wrapping your arms around his shoulders as you rested your chin in the curve of his neck. “that’s not a bad idea. oh! i could tell my mom to make the ham just the way you like it..” you pressed a kiss to his cheek, making him hum. “oh my god, with her homemade glaze?” he turned in his chair, pulling you on top of his lap as you nodded.

“mhmm.” rafe smiled down at you as stroked the side of his face. “speaking of christmas though..” you trailed off, “why don’t you ever tell me what you want!” rafe sighed, resting a hand on your thigh as you pouted up at him. “i love giving you gifts and you never want any.” it was ironic, really. girlfriend whose love language was gift giving, and boyfriend who had a hard time accepting anything.. a match made in retail hell. “it’s not that i don’t want it, babe, i just prefer buying you gifts instead.” you shook your head, a giggle falling from your lips.

“you buy me ‘gifts’ year round though, ray.” rafe looked at you for a moment. “you really want to gift me something?” he asked. you nodded frantically, feeling a sense of relief now that you got through to him, or so you thought. “just be waiting for me when i come back home,” he winked, “that’s my gift.” despite it not being the words you wanted to hear, you’d never turn him down. letting out a deep sigh, you pressed a kiss to his lips. “fine.” rafe pulled you back down on his lap before you could walk away.

“i mean it. you’re the only thing i want.” he whispered against your skin, a shiver running down your spine when you felt his hand on the small of your back. “well, i guess you better hurry up and do what you have to do with your dad before i decide not to give you anything at all.” rafe watched you get up, your hips swaying as you made your way upstairs. while he was off working out some business, you sat on your shared bed, trying to think of what lingerie you should surprise him with.

eyes skimming past the wrapping paper in the corner of the room, it was as if a light bulb went off in your head. if rafe said you were the only gift he wanted, surely you’d have him unwrap you like one.. right? before you could get any second thoughts, you quickly undressed and got to wrapping the paper around the curves of your body. you couldn’t lie, you felt just a little bit ridiculous putting a bow in your hair while you practically crinkled with every step you took. waiting for rafe to walk through the door was easier said than done.

you paced around your room, increasingly feeling dumb as you walked around in circles. “this is silly..” you muttered, about to rip the paper yourself before you heard the door shut downstairs. “i hope you’re ready!” you panicked slightly, not knowing what to do with your hands before clasping them behind your back. rafe walked in, his eyes landing on your awkward little getup before a smile took over his lips. “what’s this?” he laughed, taking a seat at the edge of the bed before pulling you close to him.

you stood between his thighs, resting your hands on top of his shoulders. “unwrap me.” rafe took his bottom lip between his teeth, stroking the exposed skin of your hips. “you don’t happen to be naked, do you?” he pressed a kiss to your navel, his large palms sliding down the backs of your thighs. you shivered at his words, shrugging coyly. “you’ll just have to find out..” rafe stood up, towering over you as he slowly tore the thin sheet of paper, revealing your bare form underneath. “oh, this is great, baby.” he stroked your skin.

rafe guided you two over to the full body mirror in the corner of your room, your head rolling back against his chest when he cupped your aching cunt. “best gift ever.”

[beloveds-embrace]

hi, this idea kind of comforts me but it makes you feel uncomfy just ignore this request.

but since you do poly 141, I was thinking of a fic where reader comes from a bad abusive family but she doesn't talk about it and thinks it's normal. and the 141 tries to get angry/frustrated with her because they are concerned for the fact she is fine with people treating her badly or not prioritising herself they come to realise it's just how she thinks. and they remind her that she now doesn't have to survive and fade into a background or is a burden and that she can live and be happy.

i know it sounds complicated and specific but I kinda have this really serene picture in my head that if that happens everything will fine AHAHA idk. but again if this idea doesn't correspond with your writing or feeling or comfortability please just ignore this. apologies if it made you feel uncomfortable.

hope you have/had a nice day or night!!♡♡

I hope you have a nice day/night as well!! And i hope you enjoy this! CW: past abuse, past emotional abuse and neglect

You met them first through a mutual friend, an unplanned introduction that turned into something you hadn’t quite expected: a tentative relationship, but one that had happiness blooming like the flowers and greenery you tend to. It was unconventional- a group of elite soldiers who spent most of their time between missions scattered across the world and a civilian- but when they returned, it felt like they brought your home with them.

You still didn’t understand why they liked having you around. You were just a florist who helped them with decorating their new house, or who listened when they needed a friendly ear. You didn’t ask for anything, and they were kind enough not to question it even if you'd seen their displeased little frowns and furrowed brows whenever you'd refuse.

But recently, you noticed them getting… concerned.

It was Soap who brought it up first, his frustration seeping into his usual easy smile.

It happened after you’d offered to run a series of errands, insisting they rest after a mission. As always, you tried to downplay your exhaustion, helping them settle in their home, making sure everything was clean and in order for them before you even considered sitting down.

Soap watched with a frown, noticing how you brushed off the heaviness in your movements and the bags under your eyes, doing your best to tend to them, such a sweet thing. But after you finished, he gently grabbed your arm.

“Dove, why do you do this?” he asked, voice softer than you’d ever heard it.

“Do what?” you replied, a little too quickly, trying to pull your arm back almost instinctively. Almost like a habit.

“Act like you don’t need anything. You haven’t even eaten today, and you’re lookin’ after us like we’re helpless. What about you, aye?”

You stared at him, unsure of what to say. You didn’t know how to explain that putting yourself last was just what you did. That it felt right, somehow, to stay in the background, to make sure everyone else was fine before even thinking about yourself. It was normal, no? It was how you were raised, and your parents only ever insisted that discipline was needed.

“Just… used to it, I guess?” you finally mumbled.

Soap’s brows drew together, but before he could say more, Gaz stepped in, giving you a gentle, worried look. So Johnny... wasn't the only one who thought so?

“It’s not right,” Gaz said, frustration simmering in his tone. “You’re allowed to put yourself first, you know?”

You shrugged, glancing away. Allowed. You hadn’t thought of it that way.

Price was the next to notice it, his observant eyes always catching the little things: how you’d flinch ever so slightly when they raised their voices, the way you stayed at the edges of conversations, nodding along but rarely chiming in. It had been the same when they'd met you, but he had assumed- hoped- it was merely you being naturally shy.

But this clearly went beyond that.

One night, as you were tidying up after dinner, John approached you, folding his arms across his chest. He stands close, but not too close.

“Why don’t you sit with us, love? Someone else can do the dishes. You barely let us help you cook or set the table either.” He says, his voice gentle, but with a hint of a command.

“I’m fine, John. I really don't mind.” You answered quickly, quietly. You couldn’t meet his eyes, a reflex you’d developed over years of keeping your head down.

He tilted his head, as if trying to see past the answer you’d given him. “No, my love,” he said softly, but with a firmness that made you pause. “I think you’re used to telling yourself that, but I don’t think you believe it.”

You froze, unsure how to respond, feeling something painful stir in your chest. The idea of asking for anything, for taking up space- of needing more than what little you had- seemed wrong. Like wanting was a burden in itself. But it is. It's what you've learnt and been taught.

John sighed, his eyes warm but sad. His hands raised to cup you face slowly, gently. “You’re not a burden, you know that, right?”

You gave him a small, shaky smile, one that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Yeah.”

The next time, it was Ghost.

He was usually silent, lurking in the shadows, watching with that keen, unreadable gaze that only ever softened for you and them. But one evening, as you were dropping off supplies at their base, Ghost noticed you hurrying off after you’d finished. He easily caught up with you just outside, his hand gentle as it grasped your shoulder.

(Yet it still had you flinching.)

“You don’t have to go, birdie.” He murmured, voice soft but clear. You met his gaze, startled by the gentle concern in his eyes.

“You… don’t mind?” you asked, trying not to look too hopeful. You always worried your company might be too boring, unproductive. Unwanted.

Ghost shook his head. “If anything, we mind when you don’t stay,” he scoffed quietly. Then he sighs. “We’re worried, you know. About how you treat yourself, luvie. Like you don’t deserve anything more than the bare minimum.”

You swallowed hard, his words hitting deeper than you’d care to admit. He waited, patient, a pillar of quiet understanding.

“I just… it’s what I know,” you finally whispered, unable to look at him. “Growing up, I was never… important. And I don't have to be! I'm not demanding it, I promise-”

He was silent for a moment, and then he took in a deep breath that cuts your frantic mumbles off, as if finally understanding something he’d long suspected. “Well,” he said, his voice a low rumble, “you’re with us now, birde. You are important.”

Something warm spread in your chest, something unfamiliar yet comforting. You managed a nod, finding a small sliver of strength in his words, and a little smile forms on your face- leaning into Ghost's knuckles so lightly caressing your cheek.

After those days, things began to change more and more. For the better.

Kyle would check in with you every day, insisting you take breaks with him, sharing laughs over simple things. Soap began inviting you to meals, not taking no for an answer, piling food on your plate until you couldn’t help but indulge. Those two especially adored taking you out to sample new cuisines, delighting in getting you to be more open with your expressions and reactions.

John and Simon would go on walks with you, listening to the little stories you’d been hesitant to share, showing you that your presence mattered to them as much as theirs did to you. And slowly, day by day, they chipped away at the walls you’d built around yourself. Showed you that what your family raised to be wasn't right, was cruel to you.

One evening, as you sat on the couch in the common room, leaning against Johnny's shoulder, Kyle leaned over, a gentle smile on his face.

“You know, love, you don’t have to survive anymore,” he said softly, meeting your gaze with a warmth that made your heart ache. “We want you here because you make us happy. Just as you are.”

The words felt foreign, but you let them settle over you, warm and safe. Kyle gave your hand a gentle squeeze, reassuring, a silent reminder that you didn’t need to hide.

“We’re here to take care of each other,” Soap murmured, his arm wrapping around your shoulders, “and that means you too, aye?”

You gave them a tentative smile, feeling that familiar ache soften just a little.

Simon, sitting nearby, nodded in silent agreement, and John leaned back in his chair, giving you a small, proud smile. “You’re one of us, love,” John said quietly, his voice steady. “And as long as you’re here, you’re part of this family. We won't just let you fade into the background. That isn't fair to a dove like you.”

And looking at them now, at the love and gentleness they held for you, it wasn't hard to believe their words.

Maybe, just maybe, you’d finally found a place where you belonged.

[reidmania]

opposites attract | s. reid

summary; spencer would give the world to be your person, even after you argue that you two are too different.

warnings; fem reader, pining!spencer, lowkey pining!reader, bombshell!reader, rejection, reader is described as confident and more of a black cat, insecurities, doubting, a bad date mentioned, happy ending, spencer lowkey gets frustrated, reader has tattoos.

an; messy and switches perspectives whoopsies. Idk how many words, a lot. Too many.

Two years. That was how long Spencer had been a complete and utter mess. Two years since his brain didn’t quite function the same, he remained intelligent, sure, but god so incomplete. Two years since you started at the BAU, two years since he met you.

You were out of his league. He had decided it the moment he laid eyes on you. You were stunning, absolutely perfect in anyones gaze. You were everything he could ever want and more, not just physically. Your laugh, your voice, the way you spoke to everyone around you, gentle, warm. The way you sat quietly in the corner most days, not because you felt out of place, nor shy, not because you didn’t enjoy being there, but just because no matter where in a room you were, your presence was known. Especially to Spencer.

He tried to pretend that he didn’t fall completely in love with you the first time the two of you ever had a conversation and you spoke to him with a smile, listened to him, he tried to pretend the scent of your perfume didn’t make him lightheaded, and the sight of your tattoo that he only saw on occasion’s didn’t make him wonder if you had more, what made you get it, was there meaning?

Spencer wanted to know everything about you, he wanted to live in your brain and know your every like and dislike, what made you smile a little wider, what made you unable to stop laughing, what your favourite drink was, what colour you liked the most, where your family was from, your middle name.

Spencer would stop the world to know you.

That was impossible to hide, even two years later. He tried, so many times to get your attention, to be the subject of your fascination. It didn’t help that every-time you looked in his direction his skin grew ten temperatures too warm and his head spun.

He tried asking you out, twice. Sort of.

The first time was too subtle, too rambling and hidden in the mix of stutters and hot cheeks, fidgeting hands. Because you were looking at him, with a gaze so intense and caring, patient.

How was he ever suppose to talk when you were looking at him like that? Like there was something that made him worth the gravity the warmth in your eyes held.

“Would you date me?” It was blurted out on a Tuesday afternoon, you were standing beside him as the buzz of the bullpen had calmed down, your gaze was focused on reorganising the files on his desk, his gaze was on you. You were reorganising because you didn’t like the way he had done it, and it had been ‘bugging’ you for weeks.

Spencer loved the way his files were organised, but he loved you more.

It was stupid, he didn’t even mean to say it. It was out of place leaving his lips and he knew it the moment your head turned towards him and a sweet laugh left your lips, not mocking him, god you would never. It was a laugh of shock, confusion, maybe even surprise.

“Are you asking me out?” You asked, raising your eyebrow slightly as you met his eyes. His cheeks heated before he could help it, eyes went wide because he had no idea what he was doing.

“What- I- no.” His voice was an octave higher, a tell sign he was nervous, if you needed any more tell signs between the fidgeting of his hands, his bright pink cheeks and his avoidant gaze. You smiled as you shook your head, looking back at the files on his desk, he watched your hand as your ran your finger along them once they were organised neatly, anyone else he might’ve cringed at the sight, but it was you.

“I don’t think so” You had mumbled in response and Spencer felt the world shift into an imbalance. You said it so casually. He didn’t know if his heart was beating too fast or if it was breaking. You turned your head back to look at him, a frown on your lips when you saw the frown that had snuck its way onto his features before he could even realise.

“Not because you aren’t great. Or attractive. You are — You definitely are. I just think we are too different.” You said. His eyebrows knitted together as he met your eyes. He hated the fact you were frowning, he hated the fact he was frowning. He hated what you had just said, god he loved you.

“Right” he didn’t know what to say.

“Spence” You spoke through a warm huff of laughter, shaking your head as you twisted your body to face him fully, your hip leaning against the desk as you crossed your arms over your chest. He watched your hair fall down the sides of your face, over your shoulders. He wondered if you had changed your shampoo since the last time, the only time you had hugged him a few weeks ago, when he had gotten the chance to breath it in, and then it was all he thought about for weeks.

You smiled at him and it was contagious, despite the ache in his chest and overwhelming sense of illness in his stomach, you were smiling. “I think you’re amazing, i always have” you started and his cheeks warmed more. “But we are complete opposite’s.”

He wanted to argue you. Say that he could change and be more like you, more like the guys he had seen pick you up after work, he could be whatever you wanted. He could be someone. Someone to you.

But he didn’t.

That was the last time Spencer had attempted to ask you out, you never bought it up. You never questioned it again, you didn’t push you ask why he wanted to know. Spencer remained sickeningly in love with everything about you, you remained pretending to not notice.

Why were you here? You couldn’t quite remember or find the time to think about it properly between the noise surrounding the fancy restaurant you were in and the sickening long rant the boy in front of you was going on. Something about a business, something about saving it, something egotistical and sickeningly boring.

The date starts out fine. It’s all small talk at first—work, hobbies, the usual pleasantries. But soon, you realize that Mark has a lot to say. About himself. A lot.

“And then I closed the deal,” he says, recounting some work story about how he single-handedly saved his company from financial ruin. He leans back in his chair, smiling like he’s just told you the most fascinating thing in the world. You nod politely, but your mind starts to wander. His voice fades into the background as you think about something else, someone else.

Spencer.

You wonder what he’s doing right now. Probably at home, curled up with a book, or maybe he’s watching a documentary. You can almost picture him, pacing around his apartment, muttering facts to himself about some obscure topic that no one but him finds interesting. But you love that about him. He’s so passionate about everything, even the things that most people would overlook. And he’s never trying to show off. He just loves sharing what he knows.

You try to pay attention to the guy in front of you, you really really do. But god he is so boring. You wonder how quickly you could get one of your friends to come save you from this horror of a date. You wonder how long you would have to hide in the bathroom for before he disappeared.

Mark’s voice pulls you back to reality. “So, what do you think?” he asks.

“Hmm?” You blink, realizing you’ve missed the last five minutes of whatever he was talking about.

“I was saying,” he repeats, a little slower this time, “I just think it’s amazing how people like me can juggle so many things at once. Don’t you think?”

You smile, but it’s strained. “Sure, that’s impressive.”

As the date drags on, you start to notice little things. Like the way Mark talks to the waiter, snapping his fingers for attention, barely looking up from his phone when the waiter brings the food. He doesn’t say thank you. Not once. It’s subtle, but it grates on you. You find yourself cringing, wondering if anyone else notices.

He was much more interesting when he asked you out a few nights ago at a bar, when you were drunk. Why had you agreed? Maybe drunk you saw something sober you didn’t. Or maybe drunk you just saw a male who was conventionally attractive and made you laugh. You wondered how low the bar was

You didn’t have a lot of time to wonder before you heard your name from behind you, your head spun and you almost cried with gratefulness when you saw Penelope standing there, a wide grin on her face, and then Spencer standing beside her, he offered you a gentle shy wave that made your heart warm.

“Oh my gosh! Do you guys want to come sit?” You asked, praying they said yes, praying that Penelope noticed the wide urgent look in your eyes and understood that you were begging. You were genuinely begging for a conversation about anything other than Mark’s biggest accomplishments.

“Oh- We don’t want to interrupt.” Spencer mumbled, looking between you and Mark, the two of you sitting opposite sides of the booth you were in. You noticed the look in Spencer’s eye, you knew what it was. He didn’t want to sit there while you were on a date with someone else. Clearly he misread the urgency in your gaze.

“No! Mark doesn’t mind? Do you mind Mark?” You asked, spinning your head around to face Mark who was confused on the two people and why they were talking to you. Why they had interrupted him. You had to hold back the urge to roll your eyes.

“Uh..” he started, you cut him off. “He doesn’t mind. Come sit.” You shuffled over to make room for the two.

Penelope slides into the booth beside you, while Spencer takes the seat across from you, next to Mark. He looks nervous, his fingers tapping against the edge of the table, but he offers you a small, shy smile.

“What are you guys doing here?” you ask, trying to suppress the excitement bubbling up inside you.

“Oh, we were just nearby, and I figured we’d grab something to eat,” Penelope says.

Spencer fidgets with his napkin, glancing at you, then back at the table. “I-I was telling Penelope about this, uh, documentary I watched the other night. It’s about the history of the subway system in New York. I think you’d really like it.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Really?”

He nods, his eyes lighting up as he starts to explain. “Yeah, it’s fascinating, actually. They had to navigate all these geological challenges, and the engineering behind it is incredible. I know you mentioned once that you’re interested in architecture, and I thought you might appreciate how they designed the stations.”

You stare at him for a moment, surprised. You don’t even remember telling him that you liked architecture, but he did. And now, here he is, rambling about a documentary he thinks you’d enjoy, not because he’s trying to impress you, but because he genuinely thought you’d find it interesting.

Meanwhile, Mark is looking more and more uncomfortable, clearly not enjoying the conversation. He cuts in, talking over Spencer to launch into another story about himself, but you’re barely listening anymore. Instead, you’re watching Spencer, noticing how different he is from Mark. Spencer, who’s always so considerate, who listens more than he talks, who looks at you like you’re the most important person in the room, even when he’s nervous.

And then there’s Mark, who hasn’t asked you a single question all night, who’s rude to the waiter, and who’s more interested in hearing himself talk than getting to know you.

“I think I might head off..” Mark muttered, clearly annoyed at the fact you had not only been interrupted on your date, but also frustrated that you were paying more attention to Spencer than him. You couldn’t care less.

“Oh okay! Have a good night” You smiled, sickeningly nice as he shuffled his way past Spencer to leave the table. He glanced at you once, not saying anything before he walked away.

“He was an asshole!!” Penelope bursts out into laughter the minute Mark was out of earshot, you immediately joined her laughter while Spencer remained quiet, shuffling around on the now empty side of the booth.

“Those are the type of guys you go out with?” He asked, his voice was quiet, almost offended. You wish you understood why when you stopped laughing at met his gaze. You opened your mouth to talk as the tension around the table grew.

“Hey! Don’t judge!” She gasped out, pointing her finger dramatically at Spencer, clearly not noticing his underlying feelings and why he had even said anything, you did. “It’s slim pickings out here!!”

Spencer hummed, tapping his fingers against the table as he avoided meeting your gaze. You frowned slightly. Soon enough the conversation fell back into rhythm, flowing like it did any other time. They ate, you paid since it was your date. Then Penelope left.

You stood outside of the restaurant, looking around the busy streets. “How are you getting home?” Spencer asked, his gaze meeting yours as you tilted your head upwards to look at him, you couldn’t not smile. It was impossible not to smile around Spencer.

“Uh- Walking. I walked. It’s really not far.” You nodded to support your words as you buried your hands inside the warmth of your pockets. You had been in a state since Spencer had gotten there, a state you couldn’t quite explain. Silently lost in thought, a state of confusion? Maybe realisation.

“I’ll walk you home. Its late.” He said it like it was a no brainer. Like it was the most obvious thing for him to do. No date you had ever been on had offered you walk you home.

Every time Spencer speaks, you feel yourself softening, smiling without even realizing it. His nervous energy, the way he fumbles over his words, it’s all so endearing. He’s not trying to prove anything to you. He just wants to share the things he loves with you, and it’s the sweetest thing.

“Okay.” You breathe out the silent agreement before your feet find rhythm next to Spencer’s as you walk down the street, the post lights causing an orange glow across the ground, across his face.

“Theres a study.” Spencer started, his breathe coming out warm against the cold air causing a fog of steam to follow his breath, you watched it for an moment before your eyes flickered to the side of his face, you’re still walking, his gaze doesn’t meet yours.

“That uh— Shows that opposites attract, it’s more of a theory, since scientifically it doesn’t actually work like that — although negatives are attracted to positives if you’re looking at electricity — but uh- People believe that a lot of people are attracted to people opposite them, because each person offers something the other lacks, making the relationship feel more complete.. Majority of relationships that are built off of opposites work better than people who are too similar because theres more of a balance.. its chaotic but, it uh — it works.”

He was nervous. You could tell. Your breath hitched slightly as he spoke, as he brought it up again. Your mind tried to process the overload of information he had mumbled out. You tried to process it.

“So scientifically we wouldn’t work.” You huffed out. He laughed. Genuinely laugh, it was breathy and quiet but genuine and it made your heart warm.

“Technically— but theoretically—”

You cut him off, a rare occurrence, “I thought you were a science guy.” You mumbled.

He was quiet for a moment before he spoke. “I think I am just a you guy.”

You didn’t know what to say. It was sweet in a way that your brain couldn’t process. He was going against everything he believed to be correct because he wanted you?

“I thought data and statistics are the most reliable source of information.” You mumbled the response, words he had said, probably months ago. Why were you fighting him on this? Why were you fighting yourself on this? You weren’t sure.

“Sure; most of the time. But they are subjective. Especially when talking about psychologically. Each couple, each set of people — they’re different.” He said, his gaze didn’t meet yours. You pulled your eyes away to focus on the street in front of you. You were getting closer to your house, yet part of you wanted to stay right here.

“You think we could work?” You asked. It was a whisper.

He paused, you could see him nod in your peripheral. “I do. I’d make it work, i’d do anything.” Maybe it came out more desperate than he had intended, you found it sweet.

You found him sweet.

“Spencer” you paused your movements and his stopped with yours. His body turned to face you as you looked up at him. His eyes were pleading, desperate, hoping. It almost made your heart ache at the slight fear in them, that you were going to maybe reject him again.

But you found him sweet.

“Id date you.” You answered the question he had asked maybe months ago now, you didn’t realise until now that you had conveniently stopped outside your house. You turned your head to look at the front door before back at Spencer.

“Can i- uh- Will you- I-“ He stuttered and your heart warmed at his nervous attempt to ask you out.

“Yes.” You answered gently, saving him the hassle. Maybe being different was a good thing. Maybe you could beat the statistics that proved otherwise.

Maybe opposites did attract.

[nereidprinc3ss]

do you believe me now? | 4

in which spencer reid and inexperienced fem!reader are interrupted at the most inopportune of times. he calls you on the first night of his case. dirty talk turns into a hard conversation. we get a glimpse into spencer's past, and we finally learn why he's so hesitant to sleep with you.

series masterlist

18+ (smut) warnings/tags: dirty talk, phone sex/mutual masturbation, softdom!spence, obligatory he talks u through it, lots of graphic discussions of sex, established relationship, angst (sorrryyy!) a/n: so remember how i said you'd need the bonus chapter to fully appreciate/understand this part? i was wrong!! it will come in handy probably in the next part tho:) also idk how these parts keep getting so long im sorry! anyway, i love you all so bad. thank you for bearing w/ my craziness. PLEASE let me know your thoughts on this part!! i adore hearing from you!! kisses

(also special thank you to @fliesforeyes who convinced me phone sex w/ spence could be done!! i will link his phone sex blurb here :)) thank u binx!!

“Three million six hundred eighty four thousand three hundred thirty two times fourteen million seven hundred sixty one thousand nine hundred seventy one.”

You’ve lost count of how many stupid math questions you’ve asked your human calculator boyfriend, just to see if he can actually do them. Spencer is silent for a second, and you think you’ve finally stumped him. 

“That one is complicated.”

You sit bolt upright in his bed, looking down at him and pointing an accusatory finger. His brows raise at the manic look in your eye. 

“You don’t know.”

“I do know. I meant it would be hard to explain if you aren’t a math person.”

“Bullshit!” You scoff, “you don’t know!”

“It would display on a calculator as five-point-three-eight-eight-E-thirteen. It’s a really big number.”

“Oh, really big, huh?” you mumble, searching for your phone blindly in the sheets and scrambling to open the calculator app. “Um… what numbers did I say?”

Spencer repeats them back to you and you press the equals sign. 

You look at it. 

And then you set your phone down. 

“I was right, huh?” he smiles up at you, probably reveling in your pouty wrongness. 

Too proud to admit it, you collapse on top of him, burying your face in his shoulder. 

“I don’t like this game anymore. What the fuck even is an e? Why are we doing algebra?”

Spencer laughs, brushing your hair aside. 

“The e stands for exponent. It’s to the power of ten.”

“Ever heard of a rhetorical question?”

“Yes, I have.”

It’s hard not to snort even at his dumbest jokes. 

“You’re annoying. Let’s do something else.”

You roll over onto your back again, letting your head flop over to look at Spencer, whose hair is exactly the right amount of messy after a long day, falling in impossibly soft waves over the perfect lines and contours of his face. Despite lounging, he’s still in his suit from work—he’d left Quantico and immediately picked you up. There were no solid plans for the evening, so after both of you pretended that you wanted to go out for a while, you ended up back at his apartment. 

He looks good. Almost too good. 

“Something like what?” he smiles lazily, reaching over and tracing his fingers over your cheek. 

“Something… naked?”

His grin widens and he shakes his head. 

“Me naked or you naked?”

Pretending to think about it, you roll your bottom lip between your teeth. 

“Mm… why not both?”

“Hm. Why do I feel like I know where this is going?”

The mattress sinks underneath your elbow as you prop yourself up, dropping your head over Spencer’s to kiss him. 

“Because you’re so smart, and you think it’s a great idea.”

He entertains your kiss for a moment. Just a moment.

“You sound sure of yourself.”

“Because I am!” You finally give in to your impulses, tangling your fingers in his hair and looking at him meaningfully. “It doesn’t make any sense for us to have not had sex. I don’t care about any of your weird, cryptic moral reasoning.”

He grabs your wrist carefully. 

“It is not moral,” he scoffs. “We haven’t even talked about it yet.”

“Really? Because I feel like we’ve talked about it a lot.” 

He begins to reply, but you realize you don’t want to get into a debate over whether you’ve technically talked about it yet. “I don’t even care! If that’s all that’s standing in your way, then let’s talk about it. Right now.”

Spencer sighs, his eyes darting between yours as he reaches up to cradle your cheek. 

“Fine. But I have things to say you’re not going to like.”

“So business as usual?”

He rolls his eyes. You allow yourself a tiny self-satisfied smirk, forever relishing in his poorly-hidden soft spot for your constant teasing. Spencer ignores this. Which is probably for the best. 

“I know you probably won’t see it this way, but—sex is different than everything else we’ve done so far. It can be really fun, obviously it feels good, it facilitates deeper feelings of connection—that’s all true. Which is why, in my opinion, it’s incredibly important that you be selective with who you sleep with. Because it’s so easy to do something you regret, and sex is vulnerable. It should always be with someone you trust and—and… care about.”

A pink flush stains his cheeks like watercolor as he stumbles over the last few words. It makes your heart flutter against the confines of your chest.

Maybe best not to think about the absence versus presence of certain four-letter words and what they may or may not mean. You’ll move on to more pressing matters and pretend like it doesn’t ache just a little in your whole body. 

You cover his hand with your own. 

“Are you going to break up with me anytime soon?”

Spencer’s eyes widen, filling with genuine horror and confusion. 

“What? No!”

“Are you going to cheat on me?”

“Absolutely not, I—”

“Then I’m not going to regret it. Issue resolved. Moving on.”

“Honey, I just want you to be 100% sure that I’m what you want.”

“Oh my god,” you groan, flopping onto your back once more. “I have begged you to sleep with me on multiple occasions. We have been dating for months and I liked you even longer before that. I think about it literally every time I see you. I don’t know how to be any surer.”

It’s quiet for a moment as you study the imaginary pattern on the ceiling. The rebuttal you’d been anticipating doesn’t come—instead, the mattress shifts next to you. Spencer enters your field of vision, now leaning over you with a little smile on his face that gives you butterflies. 

“Every time?”

“…yes, every time,” you agree, voice considerably thinner than it had been a moment ago. Spencer glances at your lips as he speaks. 

“Interesting. And what is it that you think about exactly?”

You groan again, attempting to roll facedown, but he pins your shoulder to the bed. The way he’s sweetly kissing down your cheek and jaw is infuriating because you know it’s a false pretense. 

“Ugh, I don’t know! Don’t make me answer that!”

“You said if talking about it was all that was standing in my way, we would talk about it. Now I want to talk about it. Come on,” he says, voice low and cloying against your throat as he attempts to tease the answer out of you. “Tell me what you think about when you think about us having sex.”

You let out a shaky breath at the feeling of his lips skimming your neck, hating how easily he can reduce you to this. 

“I… I always wonder what it will feel like. Sometimes I wonder if it will hurt.”

Spencer sighs, interrogation by way of seduction momentarily forgotten. You silently curse yourself for saying something so un-sexy. 

“It might, sweetheart. That’s one of the reasons we’ve held back. I… really don’t want to hurt you. I don’t even know if I can.”

You grab his face in both hands, forcing him to look at you with more confidence than you feel. 

“Sometimes I worry about it, too. But I like you a lot more than it scares me. I still want to.”

He kisses your palm. 

“You’ll be okay. It doesn’t hurt for everyone, and even if it does, you’re resilient.”

“Exactly. So you have to get over yourself.”

Spencer laughs like he wasn’t expecting to, eyes sparkling as he regards you.  

“Yeah. Yeah, maybe I do.”

He’s smiling again as he leans down and kisses you—a slow, lingering thing which tastes like spearmint as you part your lips for him. 

“Please?” you whisper against him after a long moment. He hums, keeps kissing you. 

“What is it that you think you want? You don’t even know what you’re asking for.”

“Tell me,” you beg, chasing his lips. “Tell me what you’re going to do with me. We can talk about it. This is talking about it.”

Spencer exhales deeply, wedging a thigh between yours. Immediately you clamp around it, trying not to grind against him too overtly. 

“You want to know what I’d do to you?”

“Yes—” you paw at his jacket. Surprisingly, he doesn’t stop you from pushing it off. Your heart pounds. 

“Well… we both know how anxious you get,” he muses, pressing his lips so delicately to your fluttering pulse-point in emphasis, and then back to your mouth. His thigh pushes harder against you to supplant the absence of his lips as he speaks, though he kisses you sporadically and between sentences. “You’re hard to get out of your head when you’re nervous, you know that? I watch it happen. One minute you’re with me, and then you start overthinking, and getting self-conscious. The only thing that seems to relax you is letting me touch you—so first I would touch you like I’ve touched you before. I’d make sure you know how pretty you are and how good you deserve to feel.” You whimper inadvertently at his words, arching into him and grinding against his leg as he pauses to kiss the sensitive soft spot below your jaw. “You’re going to need to be really ready to let me in. Do you know what I mean by that?”

As he asks, he pushes his thigh against you harder. Your body responds immediately, arching into him and seeking more friction. When you squeak, he takes it as a no. 

“I mean I need you relaxed and wet. You’ll excuse my crude language.”

You pull at his tie, breathing heavier now and so turned on it’s almost painful. 

“What are you gonna do after that?”

“What else is there to do but fuck you after that?” he breathes. “You want me to tell you how I’d fuck you?”

Something about it makes you whine salaciously. You’ve heard him curse—you’ve even heard him talk about fucking you. But it feels more real now; when it’s low in your ear and you’re covertly undressing him and he’s pushing your shirt over your stomach promisingly. 

“Yes, please.” 

He hums against your jaw, nipping and brushing his lips over the skin as he considers. Leaves you waiting. 

“I would have to take my time with you. You’ll be overwhelmed. I know you think you won’t, but you will. I’m going to have to be so, so careful with you, angel. It’s going to drive me insane. But it will feel good for you.”

“Why careful? I don’t want that.”

He chuckles. A chill runs down your spine. 

“Yeah, you do. You’re going to want me to be careful when I’m—” he pauses, pressing his thumb to your bare lower tummy and dragging up to a spot below your belly button. He presses down lightly again. “Right here. Approximately.”

The surface of the sun has nothing on the temperature of your skin in this moment, as you writhe underneath him in both arousal and embarrassment. Mostly, burning need. You feel almost sick with it. 

“Please don’t make me wait anymore. Just do it, please, Spencer. I need it to be you, I don’t want it to be anyone else. I promise I’m ready.”

It’s silent for a moment. Your heart quickens. You sense his walls wearing away, his instinct to keep you intact for god knows what reason crumbling. He’s finally going to give you what you’ve been begging for. 

Spencer opens his mouth, eyes glimmering—

And then his phone rings. 

You both freeze—he melts dejectedly before you do, more accustomed to an ill-timed phone call and realizing the finality it can present. 

He’s breathing heavily against your neck, as if maybe whoever it is will just hang up. But the phone keeps ringing. 

“I’m sorry.”

Your stomach sinks as he sits up, grabbing his phone from the side table and rubbing circles on your inner thigh as he answers.

“This is Reid,” he says, lackluster. 

If you wanted, you could hear what Penelope is saying—but you don’t bother listening. It’s going to be a case. Spencer is about to leave. The details are his problem. 

“Okay. I’ll be there in an hour.”

He hangs up, tossing the phone onto the mattress and not speaking for a moment, just continuing to rub your leg apologetically. Watching you almost mournfully—taking in your disheveled hair, your likely blown-out pupils, the shirt pushed almost over your chest. 

“I have to go right now,” he finally manages with a heavy sigh, gently pulling your shirt back into place. 

You sit up, shedding all the hopes that had been building for the evening, and try to sound chipper—though all you feel is bitter disappointment that goes deeper than you understand. 

“I know. Go ahead, I can get a cab home.”

He frowns, running his hand over the back of your hair. 

“I don’t love the idea of you standing on the sidewalk waiting for a car in this part of town so late. Do you just want to stay here for the night and go home tomorrow?”

You force a smile. Great. So you’ll be spending the night in his bed after all—just without him. 

“Sure. Thanks.”

“Yeah.”

Neither of you are feeling particularly grateful. 

Soon you’re walking him to his own door. Both of you come to a stop in front. 

“I’m sorry,” he sighs again. 

“Spencer, it’s fine. It’s your job. You don’t need to apologize. You were very clear about this part when we started dating.”

“I know, but… it’s easier in theory than in practice.”

You smile. If Spencer is a reflection of you, it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. His hair is still messy from your fingers running through it and he’s missing his tie. You hope all his coworkers see and feel bad about taking him away from you. 

But it’s not their fault. You just want someone to blame. 

Instead you mould yourself to his body, wrapping around him like you belong there. He returns your embrace, pressing his lips into the crook of your shoulder and rubbing your back in that way he always does with you. 

In that moment, your affection for him becomes so profound it’s like a chemical reaction—everywhere he touches burns and you love him so fucking much it aches in every inch of your body the way your muscles do when you have a bad fever. Love is the most terrible of afflictions, you realize. It is a fever dream. It’s every fiber of your being screaming to tell him how you feel, to beg him on your knees not to go because you love him like a child loves a parent or a bee loves honeysuckle or the ocean loves the horizon. Pared down to your most basic components, the barest version of yourself, you require him. Your soul needs his soul. 

“Spencer?”

“Hm?” 

It’s nothing more than an absentminded hum against your skin. 

“I…”

Should you be looking him in the eye when you say this? Should you say it right before he has to leave? Just because you say it doesn’t change the fact that he’s about to be gone for several long days. Maybe this is a terrible time to admit something that suddenly feels so true and so consequential. 

He senses your internal conflict, pulling back despite your resistance and holding your face between his hands. 

“You what?” He murmurs, soft eyes bouncing back and forth between your own. Fuck—you feel so observed, now. Like he can read your mind. 

“I forget.”

FUUUUUUCK. 

Spencer blinks. Processes. You watch the disbelief crystallizing over his eyes like ice freezing over a lake. 

He knows. 

He knows you didn’t forget, and he probably knows what you were going to say, and he’s going to tell himself he was wrong to spare your dignity. 

Everything hurts when he kisses you. You wonder what regret tastes like. 

“Well, let me know if you remember.”

It’s too gentle and at the same time he can’t hide the edge with all the tenderness in the world. You nod as if in a trance, already looking forward to dissociating as you lie in bed and stare at the dark ceiling.

Two small goodbyes are exchanged, slightly stifled now, as if shared between drunk strangers who have sobered up and are mutually embarrassed about how candidly they’d interacted before. 

You close the door behind him, doing up all the locks, and meticulously flick every light switch in the apartment off before climbing into his bed—though you don’t really feel like you deserve to be there anymore.

But perhaps this is all an overreaction. It’s not like you owe it to him to say I love you, or anything—it was bad timing, anyway. And why can’t he say it? In fact, why hasn’t he said it? 

Maybe you have it all wrong. 

Maybe he doesn’t feel that way about you. 

You fall asleep before you allow these questions to make you sick. 

24 hours go by. 

24 hours go by and you really had meant to leave his apartment—it was just that you woke up late, and your phone was dead so you couldn’t call a car, so you charged it while you made breakfast, and then you ate, and then you decided to take a shower and wash your clothes, and then it was two in the afternoon and you hadn’t left yet and you decided to walk to the store and replenish the groceries you’d used up. 

Maybe you got a bit distracted looking at flowers and other beautiful things at the market and by the time you got home it was 5:00, so you decided to wait until seven to skip rush hour. And then eight, just to be sure. 

Before you know it, it’s midnight, and you’re dozing off in his bed again (teeth cleaned with the brush you’d bought at the store—maybe this whole situation hadn’t been entirely unwitting on your part.)

Throughout the day, you tried to let all your anxiety about the previous night melt away. If it’s something that needs to be addressed, Spencer will address it. Everything will work out in the end. That thought is how you’re able to doze off. 

You’re almost asleep when your phone lights up and begins buzzing on the side table. You wince as your eyes open, not adjusting well to the harsh bright display and unable to discern who’s even calling you at this hour. Stupidly, probably because you’re half asleep, you answer without checking. 

“Hello?”

Your voice is groggy, quiet with sleep. 

“Shit, did I wake you?”

“Spence?” you whisper, stomach flipping at the sound of his voice on the other line. You feel caught, still sleeping in his bed. 

“… yeah,” he chuckles. “Did you not check who was calling before you picked up?”

“I was asleep,” you pout. “Kinda.”

“Okay. Go back to sleep, honey. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

You sit bolt upright, phone balanced between tense fingers and speaking directly into the microphone. 

“No! No, I’m awake. What’s up? Why did you call?”

A longer stretch of silence—you’re too sleepy to comprehend what it might mean, though never too sleepy to worry about it. With a pang of pain, you recall your strange goodbye, the words you hadn’t said. 

“I just needed to hear your voice,” he sighs. You frown, staring at nothing in particular in the pitch black room. 

“Oh. Is everything okay?”

“As much as it can be.”

“Right.”

More quiet. You chew on the inside of your cheek, stricken with a sudden feeling of awkwardness that you haven’t had with Spencer in a while. 

“I’m sorry… I don’t really know what to say.”

“That’s okay,” he says, and you can hear the smile in his voice which makes you feel a bit better, “why don’t you tell me about your day? Or you can absolutely go back to sleep, if you’re too tired.”

“Don’t ask me about my day,” you whisper, flopping down on the bed once more. Shame seeps into your voice. He laughs. 

“What? Why?”

“Because if I tell you you’re going to think I’m super weird and you’re going to break up with me.”

Laughter tapers off into gentler tones. 

“I already think you’re super weird. It’s actually one of your most attractive qualities.”

Blood rushes to your cheeks. 

“But it’s like… borderline crazy.”

Immediately, he replies, “for better or worse, I also frequently find myself attracted to crazy.”

“Thank you for calling me crazy and super weird,” you grumble. 

“I also called you attractive twice. Tell me.”

When his tone takes on that easy, assertive quality, and it’s sort of raspy and low because it’s late and he’s been talking all day, and you can hear the lazy smile on his face—you imagine him laying on his hotel bed, arm slung over his eyes in the dark as he grins into the microphone—you have a very difficult time saying no. 

“Fine. Guess where I am right now.”

“Um, I would hope you’re in bed?”

You smile to yourself, basking in the victory of successfully throwing him off his game even slightly. 

“Guess whose bed.”

Silence. 

“What an interesting question.” That cocky smile, the low drawling is back, and you chew on your lip, ignoring the shiver that runs down your spine. “If it’s not mine or yours, we’re going to have issues.”

“But if it is yours? You’re not going to call the police on me?”

“Why would I call the police? To tell them there’s a pretty girl in my bed and I don’t want her there?”

“To tell them your psychopathic girlfriend broke into your apartment and might be holding hostages there.”

Spencer laughs; a brittle, drawn out thing, flat and quiet as the desert.

“If you were a psychopath, calling the cops would be a waste of time. I would handle you myself.” The idea of being handled has your thighs clenching. “But—yeah, don’t invite anyone else in.” More humor finds its way into his voice, momentarily relieving some tension that had sneakily begun to build. “Having people in my space makes me anxious.”

“But not me?” Your whisper is half flirtatious, half insecure. Spencer’s reply is soft, as if he’s picking up on this from hundreds of miles away.

“No, not you. You are always the exception.”

“Good,” you say, cheeks aching as you half-bury your warm face into his pillow. “Because I made myself really comfortable. You have a nice shower, by the way.”

Spencer groans. 

“You’re killing me.”

“What? What did I do!”

“Don’t talk to me about my bed and my shower. I might start to think you’re intentionally being a brat.”

“You asked me about my day! I’m just telling you what I did!”

But you’re also intentional teasing him for sure.  After a pause, he sighs in defeat. 

“You’re right. I did do that. Tell me what else happened.”

“Well,” you begin, all too eager, “I had to put my clothes in the dryer after I got out, so I borrowed some of yours. But then they were way comfier than mine, so after I went to the store I put them back on, and—”

“Okay.”

“Okay what?” you frown. 

“Tell me what this is.”

“I—I don’t know what you mean.”

Lying to a profiler is usually pointless. 

“I’m not stupid, sweetheart. Tell me why you keep talking about my shower and my bed and my clothes.”

Caught red-handed. Your skin heats up. 

“I don’t know. I miss you.”

He hums in a way that blurs the line between sympathetic and patronizing. Even through the phone you can feel the bass of it in your bones.  It changes the frequency you’re vibrating at. It’s hypnotic. 

“But that’s not really why you’re being intentionally provocative, is it?”

“No,” you admit quietly. “I’m still upset you had to go last night.”

“So you’re frustrated and you’re taking it out on me?”

Your brow furrows. Well, when he puts it like that…

“I’m not taking anything out on you.”

“I think you are. And I don’t appreciate that, because I’m on your side, honey. Do you think I prefer being in a hotel bed by myself or being in my bed with you?”

Somehow, he makes you feel like a scolded child. But he makes it appealing in ways you don’t understand. 

“Your bed with me,” you murmur, skin prickling with the coldness of his absence even as you curl under the blanket. 

“Right. So why don’t you tell me what I can do for you right now, instead of punishing me for things that are beyond my control?”

“I wasn’t punishing you,” you mutter. 

“No? You weren’t intentionally talking about using my shower and sleeping in my bed and putting on my clothes so that I’d have to think about what I can’t have right now?”

“I—”

“Believe me when I tell you I have been thinking about what I can’t have, all day. Your efforts are entirely redundant and you can’t say anything about yourself that is even close to as dirty as the frankly disrespectful thoughts I’ve been having about you for seventeen hours.”

The lack of air is making you so dizzy your vision goes gray at the edges. 

“What… what thoughts?”

“None that you need to concern yourself with.”

“You can’t just say something like that and then not tell me!” you insist. He’s obviously giving you a taste of your own medicine and it’s fair but it doesn’t mean you have to like it. 

“I can do whatever I want,” Spencer corrects cooly in a way that pisses you off beyond belief because he’s right. It triggers some adolescent immaturity within you—a desire to get back at him, so to speak. He wants intentionally provocative? He can have it. 

“Fine. Then so can I. And there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it even if I could.”

“Spencer,” you warn. “If you don’t tell me what you were thinking I’m gonna—” you look around the room for ammo. “I’m gonna look through your nightstand!”

“Go ahead. I’ll warn you, it’s not very interesting.”

“Sounds like what someone who has something hide would say,” you mumble, crawling across the mattress through tangled sheets and using your phone flashlight to open the drawer. 

Spencer is patient and silent as you take in its contents—a small blue leather-bound notebook (full of what looks like Russian), a fountain pen, a glasses case, various kinds of vitamins, and—

“Spencer Reid,” you say, dragging out his name and pretending nothing is fluttering in your stomach, “what are these?”

“I don’t know. I can’t see what you’re referring to.”

“Take a wild guess.”

“Oh, I have one. But I’d like to hear you say it.”

You realize you may have gotten yourself in deeper than you meant to by going through his stuff. Well—they don’t say karma is a bitch for nothing. 

“What are you doing with a box of condoms?” 

He chuckles and you feel it in your whole body, warm as you stretch across his mattress and eye the box like it might jump out at you. 

“Those are years old. I’ve used three since I bought them.”

“Don’t tell me that,” you whine. “I don’t wanna think about all the other women you’ve seduced.”

“You wanted them to be for you, huh?” 

You flush. Honestly you hadn’t even thought about that. 

“I… I don’t know. I kind of just assumed…”

It’s silent for a second and you frown, realizing you hadn’t even considered protection when you’d imagined sleeping with him before. 

“You assumed what, honey?” he asks, voice soft. 

“It’s dumb. I can’t tell you.”

“You can tell me anything. I’m not going to think it’s dumb, I promise.”

You chew on your lip, letting your eyes unfocus on the box as you muster the courage to be honest. 

“Whenever I imagined it… we didn’t… use anything.”

The words make you cringe even as you’re saying them. So does the quiet that follows. 

“When you imagine us sleeping together, we don’t use a condom?”

“Ah!” The phone drops to the mattress as you cover your ears and roll onto your side, curling into yourself once more. “You didn’t have to say it! You make me sound so weird!”

“It’s not weird,” he laughs, because he can probably imagine exactly what you just did, “I just wanted to make sure I was understanding you. That said… we would definitely use protection.”

“Do we have to?”

The quiet words take even you by surprise—and they seem to stun Spencer as well. Several false starts are punctuated by a sigh as he gathers his thoughts. 

“We really should, baby. That’s the kind of thing we need to take seriously.”

“But you’re… you’re good, right?”

Thankfully he picks up on your meaning. 

“I am. I wouldn’t touch you if I weren’t.”

“And I’m good. So...”

“Hm. And has anyone ever explained to you where babies come from?”

You groan in frustration. 

“Spencer, I’m being serious! There are ways to negate that.”

“Honey,” he murmurs, “I understand that. But it would be irresponsible of me to say yes. We can talk about it in the future, but—”

“I’m telling you it’s already dealt with. The chances of an accidental pregnancy are slim to none.”

The new information hangs in the air for a moment until Spencer speaks—to your surprise, his voice is low and humorous. 

“That is… good to know. But even so—I’m setting a dangerous precedent if I always let you get exactly what you want.”

“Is it such a bad thing that I just wanna—I wanna know what it feels like? You don’t want that?”

“That’s not what I said. I want to know exactly what you feel like. I’m just hesitant to give in so quickly because it makes me look weak.”

You laugh breathlessly, caught between being turned on by the first part of his sentence and amused by the sarcastic second half. Your thighs clench and your hand absentmindedly wanders between them. 

“You know what I was thinking about?” you ask. Spencer hums curiously. “I was thinking about when you let me, um… when you let me touch you how you touch me.” He hums again, but you can hear the amused curve of a smile in it now.

“When you had your mouth all full of me and you looked so pretty?”

“When I—yeah,” you agree, too caught up to deny his compliment as your fingers brush your most sensitive spot through clothing. “And  how you got me all messy after. And I was wondering what it would feel like… inside me.”

He sucks in a breath. Your legs brush against each other and you twist slightly as you pretend like you’re not touching yourself just a little bit. 

“You want me to come inside you?”

“Yeah,” you whisper, brain short-circuiting at the way those words sound in his voice. 

—

On the other side of the line, Spencer isn’t doing a fantastic job of thinking clearly either. His dick is half-hard already and it’s only getting worse with each little noise you make that you don’t seem to realize you’re making. 

“Really? That would be very messy, baby. I’m surprised that’s what you want.”

“But I really want it,” you breathe. He’s not even looking as he slips his hand under the waistband of his pajamas and palms himself, his other hand rubbing tiredly over his face as his phone rests on his chest. This was not how he intended for this call to go, believe it or not—but he’s here now. 

“Yeah? Is that why you’re touching yourself right now?”

You go silent—which is more or less exactly the reaction Spencer had been expecting. Patiently he waits for you to deny it, in three, two—

“’M not.”

Now, he could explain how he knows that’s a lie. How your breathing pattern changed, and your voice got softer and airier, and how you started speaking with smaller words in fragmented sentences. But he doesn’t feel like explaining any of that. 

“I know that’s not true,” he murmurs. “You know what? It wasn’t fair to get you all worked up last night and then leave. I don’t want you frustrated, honey. I want you to do whatever you need to do.”

You make a little gasping noise, and Spencer can imagine the way your back would arch when you did it. His own hips buck slightly as his dick twitches under his fingers. 

“Where are you touching?”

“Um—over my clothes.”

Cute. 

“Go under them for me. Tell me how it feels when you’re touching yourself like that.”

It takes a moment, in which all he hears is the rustling of fabric, until you’re whispering, “feels… it feels good. I wish you were here.”

He inhales, freeing his cock and squeezing the base. 

“I know. Just listen to my voice, pretty. I’m right here.”

Spencer allows himself a few slow tugs as he imagines what’s happening in his bed. You make a squeaking noise, like a held-back moan, and his eyes screw shut. 

“I need them inside,” you whine, and he knows you’re referring to his fingers—the ones currently stroking his own leaking cock. 

“You can use your own, just give yourself a minute first. Remember what I said about needing to be ready?”

“I am ready—” judging by the surprised chirp you interrupt yourself with, you’ve proven yourself right. What surprises Spencer is the weak sound of disappointment you make next. “Spence, it doesn’t feel the same.”

“We’re different sizes, honey. Your hands aren’t as big as mine. But you can still make it feel good.” 

He almost says, 90% of the nerves in the vaginal canal are located in the lower third—in other words, within approximately 2.36 inches from the opening, which you can most certainly reach—but he refrains. He’s not sure if that’s good dirty talk. 

“You have a really sensitive spot about three inches up, right in front. It’s going to feel a little different than the rest of you when you touch it. I want you to try and find it for me, okay?”

“Okay,” you breathe, ever-eager to please even from a great distance. There’s a quiet moment. “I can’t—I don’t think I can r—oh,”

The moan is so pretty Spencer can’t help speeding up the motion of his hand, hissing slightly as his fingers brush against the angry tip with every pump. 

“Did you find it?”

“Yeah,” you whine, a weak, high-pitched thing. “Oh my god.”

“Be gentle,” he warns with some effort as his own hips jump slightly. “You’re really sensitive there. If you’re not careful you’ll make yourself sore.”

“I don’t care—holy shit—” the way your voice rises and tightens to a squeak at the end has Spencer moaning as he fucks his fist. A black hole forms and warps time, turning every minute into a second and every second into an infinity until he has no idea how much time is going by. He drags his thumb over the tip, smearing precum over his cock and whining as his jaw drops at the feeling. “Oh my god, Spencer,” in that same strained, high voice. “’M gonna—ah!”

He gets the general sentiment. 

“What, baby? You’re gonna make yourself come all over your fingers? Is that what you wanted to tell me?”

“Mhm!”

“Yeah, I bet you are. It feels good, huh?”

“Yes,” you cry. 

“See? You don’t need my fingers to feel good. Mine barely fit, you know that? I have to hold your fucking hips down whenever I put my fingers in you because you can’t stop squirming. I don’t know how you think you’re going to take my cock.”

“Spencer!” 

He knows. 

“Come, baby. Let me hear you.”

The delicate sounds you make as you bring yourself to orgasm tip him over the edge of his own—grunting as he comes all over his fist. 

“Jesus,” he strains under his breath, the word dragging out into two long syllables as his hips buck involuntarily and cum drips down his knuckles. He’s lightheaded and he’s created a mess and it all happened so quickly. “Fuck,” he breathes, a rasping chuckle as he reaches for the towel he’d dropped on the bed after his shower earlier. “You conscious over there?”

“I’m conscious,” you slur, breathing heavily. “I’ve never had an orgasm by myself before.”

“Are you proud of yourself?” Spencer smiles, wiping his hand off and making sure he’s otherwise clean. “You should be. I am.”

He’s barely kidding. 

“I’ll be proud when I can do it without your help,” you tease. 

“But I’ll always want to help you with that.” His already warm face flushes further as he goes over what he’d said. “Sorry I was so vulgar.”

You laugh. He blushes even more. 

“Are you? I think you secretly love being vulgar.”

“I don’t know why! I have no idea where it comes from. I would never speak that way in any other context. I should probably work on that. Sometimes I look back on the things I say and I’m genuinely appalled.”

“Well, don’t stop on my account. Personally I enjoy it.”

“Yeah, I think I’m corrupting you. You probably shouldn’t enjoy it.”

The truth of it weighs heavy on his mind, but he’s pretty sure his voice alone doesn’t betray that and you can’t sense it through the phone. 

“Oh, my god. Do not do that falling on your sword shit. I like being corrupted by you. If you stop I’ll be very upset.”

“Well god forbid you get upset,” he teases gently. Idly he wonders if the reason he’s suddenly feeling so depressed is because his cortisol levels were already high from the case, and then he jarred his system with an orgasm, spiking his dopamine and ultimately causing it to plummet without the oxytocin release that post-coital physical contact would usually provide. 

Or if it was something else. It could also be something else. 

For the millionth time, he wishes he was with you. Part of him also wants to go to sleep. But mostly he wishes he was with you. 

—

A comfortable silence settles over the conversation. In the ditch between words, you’re mapping constellations in the texture of Spencer’s ceiling. If you squeeze your eyes almost shut, you can imagine it really is the night sky. You can imagine he’s really here. 

You think about what he said—his apparently mindless vulgarity. Did it mean anything? Or was he just rambling to get you off?

“Spencer?” you murmur. 

“Yeah?”

“Can I ask you a question?”

He sounds earnest, perhaps a little tired, as he replies, “always,” through the little metal rectangle on your chest. He likes me and my questions are important to him, you repeat to yourself silently as you work up the strength. 

“If Penelope hadn’t called, last night… were you going to have sex with me?” 

Your lip tastes like his toothpaste as you chew it. Spencer sucks in a breath of air like he’s about to speak—and lets it fizzle out like foam on a carbonated drink. 

“I don’t know,” he finally admits, lamely. “That wasn’t my plan, but you can be extremely convincing when you want to be.”

“But why can’t it be your plan?” It’s an almost whine, pouty and childish—but the next words are quiet and pained. “Is it something I’m doing wrong?”

“No, no! It’s not you. You’re perfect. It’s—it’s complicated. It’s a me thing.”

Such trite words—such a ubiquitous, simple excuse sounds almost comical from his mouth when you know he’s capable of all the eloquence in the world. It’s not you, it’s me. It’s ridiculous. 

“Okay. Let me simplify this for you,” you begin with an uncharacteristic assertiveness that surprises even you. “I want to have sex with you. Either we are going to have sex or we’re not. So your future branches in two diverging paths. In one, we have sex, and then we keep having sex. In the other we never have sex ever. If you want to ever have the privilege of fucking me, then we just have to do it. Otherwise it simply will never happen. And I’m not eternally patient, Reid.”

Go me, you think, slightly breathless from your monologue. 

“Watch your mouth,” he says dryly. Something about the chastisement makes your stomach flip and your whole body tingle. “When you talk to me you call me Spencer. I will also accept Doctor Reid.” You wrestle down a smile, refusing to let him change the subject. A delayed sigh from him sobers up the conversation. “You know what I want. I’ve been very clear with you about that. But…”

“But…?”

Another sigh. A deeper, shuddering sigh, like his breath is searching for balance. Like Spencer is in a precarious position for which he was unprepared. 

“But—but to be completely honest… I worry that you’ll regret choosing me. And I know virginity is a social construct and I’m not implying that your worth will somehow be diminished if we have sex but regardless of my views on virginity as a construct, having sex for the first time can be weird and scary and it’s incredibly intimate and I don’t want you to regret your first time like I regret mine because you chose the wrong person.”

The words come at you so rapid-fire it takes you a moment to process them. And aside from all the ways you want to reassure him that you will not regret choosing him—that you could never, ever regret anything about him—one thing stands out. 

“You regret your first time?” 

Something between a scoff and a sigh travels through the line. You can tell he’s not annoyed at you for asking so much as he’s flustered himself with all his own words as he occasionally does. 

“Yeah. Yes. Sometimes I do. The person—she didn’t… like me as much as I liked her. And I was really, really in love with her, and she knew that and she knew she wasn’t in love with me—or maybe she was, I don’t know—but my point is, when one person likes the other more than the other person like them, things get complicated. And however you feel about me—that’s fine. It’s fine. I don’t want you to feel bad if we don’t feel exactly the same way about each other. I understand that this is newer for you, it’s different, I—I just don’t want us to do something we can’t undo because I don’t want to relive that. And I’m not saying it will never happen but I just don’t want you to make this choice when… when right now, I think we’re in different places emotionally. Regardless of that, I want you to choose the right person. I don’t want you to choose me and then find out that we feel differently after we sleep together and leave you feeling like you signed up for something you didn’t understand. I’m sorry. Maybe telling you this is selfish. But I’ve been thinking about it and trying to ignore it and I think I just have to be completely honest.”

Your ears ring like Spencer just fired a blank right into the microphone. Like you just got backhanded across the face and now you have the world’s worst case of whiplash. 

Every finger is numb and your blood is so cold it feels blue as it slithers thick through your veins. 

What you want to do is scream. What you want to do is go back to last night and stop yourself from almost telling him I love you, slap yourself and keep your cards a little closer to your chest. Because now he knows, and he doesn’t feel the same. 

You want to scream bloody murder. 

But when you try, when you unhinge your jaw and part your chapped lips and expect a bellow to come hurdling up the corridor of your throat with so much force it rattles your bones, all that falls out is a small, “oh.”

Maybe that’s worse. 

Spencer doesn’t reply. You hate yourself for feeling obliged to fill the silence. 

“I didn’t realize you…”

I didn’t realize that you don’t love me back. 

I didn’t realize I like you more than you like me. 

I didn’t realize you’d tell me to masturbate in your fucking bed and then drop this not even five minutes later. 

If Spencer Reid was able to talk to you over the phone with the same amount of affection and familiarity as always, like everything was still okay, knowing you love him and he doesn’t love you the whole time, he is not who you thought he was. 

“I’m sorry,” he lamely says again, like it could ever help. 

More silence. Now you can’t bring yourself to speak, so Spencer does. 

“I realize how awkward this is. I really didn’t mean to put you in this position. Especially not over the phone when I—god, I’m stupid. I’m sorry. But can we—can we talk about this in person when I get back? Please?”

Is that what grownups do? Is the proper etiquette for him to take you out to dinner and explain why he’s not in love with you? Is he going to break up with you?

What does one even wear to a breakup date?

“Okay,” you whisper. Your eyes sting, your everything stings, like you’ve been wrapped in a shroud of briar. Sheets that were soft a moment ago feel like sandpaper on open wounds. You feel like an open wound. 

Spencer sighs. It’s a sound of relief that confuses and hurts you even more. 

“Okay. I—okay. Thank you. Um—I’ll let you go back to sleep, now.”

“Okay,” you repeat—as if any of this were okay. But you can’t keep being that stupid girl who feels it all so much harder, who loves easily and begs to be loved in return, too naive to assume that someone who treats her so kindly might not reciprocate her feelings. It has to be okay, because if it’s not, you’re silly and dramatic and you’re just proving him right. 

“Goodnight,” Spencer whispers, and you can’t help but feeling that it’s the last time you’ll ever hear those words from his mouth while you’re in his bed. And he’s not even fucking here.

So you pull the blanket a little higher. You let your tears stain his pillow because they’ll be invisible by the morning. It will be like they were never here. Like you were never here. 

“Goodnight.”

-

part five

[ayyy-pee]

𝕆𝕌𝕋𝕃𝔸𝕎

Discord 18+ - Twitter - Part Two of Outlaw Series

Pairing: Outlaw!Suguru Geto x Female Reader Genre: Western AU WC: 8.7k Summary:

“Gettin’ train tickets ain’t easy. Where ya headed?” “Just a few towns over. Goin’ to visit family,” you explain, now more relaxed with him. Something about the way he was able to soothe your nerves makes Suguru feel proud. It also is making him clearly insane, because some sick part of Suguru begins to think he could be your family. If you’ll let him. “What about you?” His brows shoot up in surprise. Why would you want to know about him? “Me?” You nod quickly. “I know you’re…” You lean forward and Suguru mirrors the action as shivers race up his spine when you whisper scandalously, “...an outlaw.”

Story Warning: Train robbery, hostage situation, lying and scheming, profanity bc bitch it's me??, dub-con, Suguru has a corruption kink, needy downbad Suguru, "virgin" reader, guns, smut, blowjob, riding, fingering, spit, thinking about spitting, i love spit, dirty fantasies, titty sucking probably, using ropes, hair pulling (lmfaooooo), threats of violence, dirty talk, inexperienced reader, spit!, overstimulation, humiliation kink, Suguru is kinda pathetic, actually real pathetic, don't get your hopes up idk

Artist Credit: @/tsumusbeloved (on twitter)

A/N: FINALLYYYYY. This has been sitting in my drafts for like 3 months!!! I hope yall enjoy!!!

Tags: @syubseokie @yasu-1234 @cassayeee @glmpsfs @struxkbylightning @aotdump @oidloid @sunnysdiarythoughts @stillseren @lovebittenbyevans @avaatara @elliesndg @luv-kae @megtheebimbo @buttercupblu143 @toffeebrat @kaqua@moggleatlife @candy-s72 @sukunadckrider @xixflower @apchmon

It’s the shrill screech of the metal meeting metal on the train tracks that Suguru enjoys most about his work. How this massive tank of metal carrying so many people can just fly across the country, providing beautiful views of miles and miles of desert sands and mountains. The wildlife roams free on the frontier without a care in the world. And the train just keeps going, filling the sky with thick curls of black smoke.

Yeah, this train has many people on it.

Which means, this train has plenty of goods that will soon be his.

“Ah, you dropped your hat, boss.” A smooth voice speaks behind Suguru, holding open the train door as one other clambers in. Suguru kindly grabs his hat from the man, placing it atop his head as he watches his partner take the last person’s hand, lifting them inside.

It’s a woman, small and with strawberry blonde hair. She grabs onto the man before her. The disgust is clear on her face as her eyes roam along his body.

“Couldn’t pick another day to wear no shirt, Larue?” She complains, spreading a small cloud of dust as she brushes her clothes off.

Larue shrugs, chuckling lightly while he closes the train door. The rushing roar of the winds finally subsides. “It’s hot as all hell outside, Manami. Why not be shirtless? Besides, it gives everyone something spectacular to gawk at.” He motions towards his chest where his new set of ink lies – two hearts, one where each of his nipples are.

“A drunken bet gone right, if you ask me,” Larue had said the night after. “They’re gonna love these at the whorehouse.”

“If you two’re finished…” Suguru begins. Both Larue and Manami straighten up. “I wanna get in ‘n outta here. No funny business. Larue, take the back of the train. Better for you to be there in case the conductor gets any ideas. Grab what ‘ya can get your hands on – jewels, shoes, money. Don’t matter.” Suguru taps his chin in thought, running through his mental list to make sure he hasn’t forgotten anything. “Oh! And don’t forget to check the bars for any spoons or forks. Y’know what that silver’s worth. Me ‘n Manami will take the front of the train.”

Larue nods, no further instruction needed and Manami smiles next to him excitedly. She quickly shuffles over to Suguru’s side, looping her arm through his and Suguru rolls his eyes before slipping his arm out of her hold. Manami shoots him a pouty look before she quickly recovers, folding her arms over her chest.

“Alright, Boss. I’m ready.” She says with a hushed tone. Larue gives one more nod before he turns around and heads the opposite way. He slides the door slightly ajar, peering inside and just after he enters and the door has been shut and locked, Suguru and Manami hear the muffled shrieks of the passengers in the car.

“Hands in the fucking air! This is a stick up!”

Suguru peers down at Manami who is already staring up at him with eager eyes. And it takes everything in Suguru to not roll his eyes in response. She really gets on his last nerve.

‘I gotta get rid of her after this one,’ he thinks as he moves past the woman and into the opposite end of the train.

He slips through the door, closing it quietly behind Manami once she’s in. No one bothers to look up when they come in and Suguru counts his lucky stars that this will be easier than he anticipated. They make their way along the aisle, offering soft smiles to the passengers that happen to look up as they pass. Suguru thinks there’s nothing but a bunch of carefree monkeys too relaxed and stupid as all hell on this train. They don’t even know what’s coming and if they know what’s good for them, they won’t bother to fight back when they find out.

He lets Manami do the work of maintaining a mental checklist of every item worth its salt in this train car. This is where he’ll leave Manami to do her part. Then Suguru will take the final car where the stragglers usually reside. Larue is already taking care of everything in the back. When he’s done, he’ll pile up all the goods in an empty car and then make his rounds to grab what Manami and Suguru collect.

When they reach the end of the current car, Suguru turns to Manami who is already reaching into her blouse. She beams, eyes locked on Suguru as she slowly pulls out a pretty little Colt’s revolver. Her lips pull up at the corners, a sly grin on her face. If it’s meant to be alluring to Suguru, it’s not working. In fact it’s having the opposite effect. It’s so annoying, the way her pupils dilate when she looks at him. It’s only been a few months since Manami joined their group, but it’s only getting worse for Suguru. She spends half her time trying to seduce him and failing. And it’s not that Manami is unattractive. She’s a very beautiful woman, but she’s not exactly Suguru’s type.

He’s looking for someone a bit more…inexperienced when it comes to this life of crime. Someone he can mold into his ideal woman, untouched by the roughness that west has to offer. Manami has been doing this for far too long, and already has habits that consistently get under Suguru’s skin. She’d never interest him that way.

The pink haired woman flashes Suguru her gun, pointing her chin towards the last car as a signal for him to go on. Suguru nods, spinning on his heel and heading towards his destination. And just in time too, because he hears the door on the other end of the train car close and he knows Larue has finished and has come to assist Manami.

The train car slides shut behind Suguru right as he hears the passengers scream in the car behind him. It’s louder than the first instance and catches the attention of the passengers in his car who now stare at him with wide eyes, mouths agape like a sea of fish.

Suguru rubs the nape of his neck, frowning. Then, offering a goofy grin, he mutters, “Ah well…” He reaches behind him, wrapping his nimble fingers around the cool, wooden handle tucked into his waistband. He whips out his revolver, the sun glaring off of the fancy gold weapon as Suguru aims it at the passengers who all shriek in terror. The women clutch their jewels. The men hold onto their women. And Suguru? He laughs raucously before he barks out, “Put ‘em up!”

- - - - - -

It’s a little surprising how easily the heist goes, but Suguru tries not to give it too much thought. You start thinking something’s gonna go wrong and it damn sure will. While Manami is guiding passengers into the back cars, Larue has the conductor held hostage, locked away with threats of a bullet to his skull unless he continues driving. He’d only shown his face and quickly hid away in his cabin when Suguru told him to use his fucking brain unless he wanted it splattered across the window.

Now, Suguru finds himself roaming the cabin to see if there are any stragglers. And there is one. A very beautiful woman, at that. There you sit, in the last seat of the train car. He slowly makes his way over to you. Suguru thinks you must be some type of saloon girl. Your pretty little dress and waist neatly cinched in a leather corset is the giveaway. He glances over his shoulder, just to be sure this cabin is empty, only to find that it truly is only himself and you left. He hates having to wrangle the stragglers. That’s Manami and Larue’s job. And Suguru hates it even more when they’re not doing it.

He tightens the grip on his gun, turning to give you an earful until his eyes meet yours. They’re so wide and glistening, like you’re on the verge of tears. Your lips are quivering, your bottom lip protruding in a pout. It reminds him of the look Manami gave him just before the heist started. Except when coming from you, for some reason, it’s bringing out a different reaction. 

His heart rate quickens, and Suguru’s hands suddenly feel clammy and not from the heat in this train car. He can feel sweat beginning to bead on his forehead and he has to swallow to quell the dryness that’s forming in his throat. Then he’s tucking his weapon away into his holster and moving towards you.

“I beg your pardon, ma’am,” Suguru speaks calmly as he takes the seat in front of you. You peer up at him, with apparent fear in your eyes and he wants nothing more than to see that look disappear. Usually, he’d use force to get you out and rounded up with the rest of the passengers. He’s not sure why, but there’s something about you that makes Suguru want to take care of you. “Why didn’t you leave with the rest of the crowd?” He questions.

You’re fidgeting with the fabric of your dress in your lap, visibly shaken even as Suguru removes his hat and sets it on the seat in front of you before he sits down.

“I–” you clear your throat and bite down on your lip, seemingly to calm your nerves. 

“I’m not gonna hurt ya, ma’am,” he tells you softly, reassuring you. “Just wonderin’.” Suguru takes this time to drink in your features – how soft you look, the way your body so beautifully fills that dress of yours, how you’ve got a face that will be burned into his memory long after this encounter.

And for some reason, it also feels as if it was burned into his memory long before this encounter. There’s a familiarity about you that Suguru can’t quite place. He’s certain he’s seen your face somewhere. He had been through many saloons and brothels in his time traveling the frontier. Perhaps he had run into you in one of the many establishments he frequented? 

No. No, Suguru would remember if he saw a woman who looked like you in any of those places. You would have easily stood out in the crowd. He would have called you up to his room on any of those nights. 

You bite down on your lip as you stare at Suguru. As afraid as you look, you don’t break eye contact. To see you so stricken with fear, and yet you steadily look him in the eye without blinking. You show courage even when faced with danger, and it does something to him. 

The look on your face has him picturing all sorts of things about you and he doesn’t even know your name.

“I was afraid,” you mutter quietly. 

Thankfully so, because Suguru was just about to begin imagining a life outside of crime with you. Which is shocking in and of itself. Three minutes of simply staring at you had him visualizing a future on the prairie hanging laundry on the line while you fed the cattle.

‘Keep it together.’

“Don’t be scared. I’m not gonna hurt nobody,” Suguru reassures you again. He tries to calm your nerves with a smile which seems to work because he sees you visibly exhale. You return his gesture with a small smile of your own, and his imagination runs wild once more.

“Promise?” You ask, Suguru’s smile widens. 

‘Cute,’ he thinks. He wants to see more of those. “I promise, sweetheart.”

He can hear the way you huff, something between a laugh and a sigh of relief. And Suguru finds himself becoming more and more infatuated with you as he keeps the conversation going.

“Gettin’ train tickets ain’t easy. Where ya headed?”

“Just a few towns over. Goin’ to visit family,” you explain, now more relaxed with him. Something about the way he was able to soothe your nerves makes Suguru feel proud.

It also is making him clearly insane, because some sick part of Suguru begins to think he could be your family. If you’ll let him.

“What about you?”

His brows shoot up in surprise. Why would you want to know about him? “Me?”

You nod quickly. “I know you’re…” You lean forward and Suguru mirrors the action as shivers race up his spine when you whisper scandalously, “...an outlaw.”

He leans back, rubbing his chin thoughtfully while he purses his lips together. His gaze is locked onto you because he wonders if you’re up to something. If you’re not as sweet and innocent as you look. But when you lean back and flutter your lashes at him, he begins to doubt it. That sweet face of yours is a rare one to see on this side of the wild west; beautiful and unscarred. You don’t look like you’ve been exposed to anything more dangerous than a thunderstorm. And it’s arousing. The air of innocence that you carry has Suguru shifting in his seat, his pants suddenly feeling tighter.

This is exactly what he’s been wanting. Someone opposite of Manami, someone who is interested in his life, but not involved with crime in the least. As far as he can tell, you’re clean as a whistle. And Suguru likes to think he’s good at reading people.

“Never seen a outlaw before?” He drawls. You shake your head, back to messing around nervously with your dress.

“Never,” you answer softly, batting those pretty, long lashes at him. “Only seen ‘em on signs. Wanted…dead, or alive.”

Oh, you really are sheltered.

“Well, now you’ve seen one in person.” Suguru combs his fingers through his dark tresses, grinning like his criminal status is one to be proud of. To him, he supposes it is. “What d’ya think?”

You do that lip biting thing that Suguru is beginning to realize he finds cute. Maybe it’s a nervous tick, but this time it seems it’s to be you holding back a smile. Everything you do is cute to him. Everything you do is sweet, innocent, arousing.

“I…” You lean forward in your seat again, and whether you realize it or not, it gives Suguru a perfect view of the swell of your breasts. It’s a struggle to keep his focus on your face when your skin looks so smooth, and unmarred, perfect. Those plush lips of yours whisper, “...I think it’s exciting.”

He can only think one thought in this moment.

He wants to ruin you.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“What’s excitin’ about it?” He asks, though he has an idea what it is. The travel, not being tied down to anyone or anything, the freedom this life provides. It’s what they all say when they try to make small talk. “Pretty girl like you can’t possibly know nothin’ about this life.”

You inhale deeply, leaning back in your seat and Suguru watches closely, the way your chest rises and falls with the breath. “Well, I never seen a outlaw in person. Surely never spoke to one. And…” You purse your lips together, like you’re contemplating if you should say the next thing. But you do anyway. “I just never thought a outlaw could be so pretty.”

His eyes widen, the corners of his lips rising with a goofy grin. “Pretty?” He chuckles, combing his fingers through his hair again. “You really think so?”

He’s been called a lot of things, but pretty is not one of them.

“Yep. Look at ya.” You stand, moving quickly to cross the small gap between you both and take a seat next to him. You reach for his arm, then hesitate, pulling back for a second. You peer up at Suguru, silently asking permission and he nods. Your fingers ghost along his forearm, over his bicep, along his neck where his Adam's apple bobs with a gulp, and then your hand is cupping his cheek. Your trail leaves behind a trail of goosebumps.

And Suguru’s pants grow tighter.

Suguru has had his fair share of women and men alike during his time as a felon. But you’re particularly tempting. He’s not sure he’s ever wanted someone as badly as he wants you right now and it’s been all of ten minutes in this train car together. But any minute now, his crew is going to come through those doors and tell him they’re ready to go. And then Suguru will have to leave and the chances of him seeing you ever again are slim to none. 

But on the bright side, the chances of him seeing you again are slim to none. It’s a little sudden, but you seem like you want him with the way you’re feeling him up right about now. Maybe you'd let him bury his cock as deep as he can go, fuck you until you’re screaming his name, begging and crying on his cock. Then he’ll fill you with his seed, maybe leave a baby in you to remember him by if you’re lucky and then he’ll grab his spoils with Larue and the rest and go. Then he'll never see you again. 

This desert is far and wide. He’d have you today, then never have to face you again for the rest of his life. A woman like you? You'll be just fine. A pretty face and an even prettier smile. Though he thinks you're a bit naive. Have to be to be sitting here chatting with him like he’s some gentleman you met on a leisurely trip to see your relatives. Regardless, there will be some poor fool out there that'll be happy to have you after he's had his way with you.

‘Weren’t you just daydreaming about settling down with this woman?’

“Pretty eyes,” you hum, pulling Suguru from his filthy fantasies. “Nice skin, pretty lips. Just…very pretty.” Your thumb caresses his skin and his eyes can't help but notice the way your gaze is locked to his lips. He pokes his tongue out, watching your eyes widen just slightly at the motion, as he runs the wet muscle along his lips. And he’s right back in his head, thinking of all the ways he could have you.

There’s no mistaking the thick tension filling the room at this moment. Like a lightning bolt hitting the same spot repeatedly. Each stroke of your fingers along his cheek only intensifies the mood. Suguru’s lips curl into a teasing smirk, and yours into one that matches. “Why do I feel like you're trouble?” He says.

Your smile widens, and like a magnet, Suguru finds himself slowly being drawn closer and closer to you. Even as a soft laugh falls from your lips, his mind is wiped clean of all thoughts that don't consist of you.

“Me? That’s funny comin’ from a outlaw like yourself,” you mutter just as you close the distance between you, pressing your lips teasingly to Suguru's. They barely touch, truly a ghost of a touch but Suguru still has to swallow down the moan that damn near bursts from his chest the second your mouth was close enough to his.

You pull away suddenly, covering your lips as you lean away, your eyes wide with worry. “‘m sorry.”

“What are you apologizin’ for?” Suguru asks, scooting closer.

“I don’t know what’s gotten into me…I just…” You’re back to fidgeting with your dress again, and Suguru places a large hand over yours to stop the movement. “You’re a criminal, and I’m just me. I shouldn’t even be talkin’ to you.” You stare up at him with wide eyes, and fuck he wants you.

You look so sweet, so pure looking at him like that. And he feels a little like a piece of shit because while you’re looking at him with probably innocent thoughts floating around in your head, he’s thinking about how he’d love nothing more than to cover your face in his seed.

“I’m not a bad guy,” Suguru lies easily. “Have I done bad things?” He shrugs, because he’s done way too many terrible things to count. Better not to give a real answer to that one. “But I’m enjoyin’ our conversation. The kiss was just a perk. Wouldn’t mind it if it happened again. I’d gladly accept it.”

“But…I don’t even know you…”

‘All the better,’ is what he wants to say, but instead, he tells you, “And that’s fine. Listen–” he squeezes your hand gently. “Best part of bein’ a criminal is that I just do what I want. Don’t gotta ask permission for nothin’.”

Your eyes swim with curiosity. “It’s that easy?”

“Yep. Do what makes ya feel good, sweetheart.”

You still don’t look convinced, and if this next question doesn’t work, Suguru will have no choice but to tie you up and dump you in the other train car with the rest of the hostages. He doesn’t have much time to waste trying to get you just to kiss him.

“Lemme ask ya…did you like kissin’ me?”

He knows he should be worrying about the heist, not some pretty face distracting him from the job. But when you speak again, he tells himself the job can go to hell.

“Yes…but…I got scared. I– I’ve only done some things with a man…” you admit quietly. “And I’m not too good at it.”

Fuck. He has to have you.

“That’s not a problem, sweetheart,” he reassures you, and you beam.

Your hand grasps onto Suguru’s, squeezing tightly. “Really?”

He nods. “I don’t got much time before I gotta leave, but I can show ya some things real quick.”

“You’ll show me? How to do things?” Your voice is eager, so ready. Suguru is finding it hard to contain how much you’re turning him on right now. “Like kissin’ and…y’know other stuff?”

“What kinda stuff?” He asks, because he wants you to say it. Wants to know how far you’re willing to go if you’ve never done a damn thing before. You pinch your lips together, turning your head away shyly. But Suguru gently cups your chin, turning you to look at him again.

“What kinda stuff?” He repeats. “Tell me.”

“Stuff…that makes a man…y’know…”

He grins, tauntingly. “Enlighten me,” he whispers.

“Stuff to make a man…” you worry your lip between your teeth. “...feel good.”

Oh hell. 

What type of good deeds has Suguru done to find himself here? With someone as virtuous as you, who is asking him of all people to show you how to please him? He has half a mind to tell you no. He’s got shit to do and his partners are bound to come looking for him any minute. But his cock is screaming within the confines of his pants to get into those undergarments of yours. And there’s no argument to be had here. 

He’s listening to his dick.

Suguru crashes his lips to yours, swallowing up the yelp that escapes you from the sudden kiss. “I’ll teach ya whatever ya want, pretty girl.” He groans into your mouth. 

He kisses you hard, but slowly, giving you time to catch up. You’re a little slow to pick up, but you get there. Your lips slot against his, fingers slipping into his hair and holding on tight, making Suguru groan into the kiss once more.

“We don’t got a lotta time,” he breathes against you.

You nod, pulling away to look up at him. “What d’ya want?”

You.

He needs you – bent over the passenger seat and holding onto the bar sitting atop it while he fucks you from behind. He needs you sitting on his face, needs your hand around his length. But he’s looking at your face again, so desperate for instruction. Looks at your lips, swollen from the little bit of kissing you’ve been doing. And he knows exactly what he needs in this moment.

“Ever had a cock in your mouth?” He shifts, sitting back against the seat.

You shake your head.

“Ever touched one?”

Another shake of your head.

“What have you done?”

You hum, thinking only for a short time before you answer. “Kissed.”

What fucking luck.

Doesn’t matter what they score off the train today. This is the biggest reward of all.

“Good,” Suguru says, tugging your hand until you stand. With a grin, he guides you to the floor until you’re sitting up on your knees. “There won’t be another man who’s had ya then. I’ll show ya how to please me, make me feel good.” 

You nod, and Suguru can’t believe how easy this was as he fumbles with his belt, quickly undoing the buckle. He yanks his pants down, along with his underwear. Only to his knees. He wants to be able to get up quickly if needed. Suguru’s dick sits against his stomach, fat and long, with a harsh red tip that leaks with precum. He peers down at you, your eyes honed in on his length.

“Touch it,” he whispers encouragingly.

Your eyes meet as you move, your hands wrapping around Suguru tenderly, pulling a hiss from him. You hold his length like it’s a foreign object, and he supposes it is to you since it’s the first time you’ve done. Suguru grits his teeth, bringing a hand up to your fist. You’re simply touching him and his dick is throbbing in your grip.

“Move your hand…up ‘n down,” he tells you. “Like this.” He guides you, helping to move your hand in slow and light pumps until you’ve found a rhythm that works. His head falls back as the pleasure takes over. “Ahhh–shit, just like that, pretty girl.”

“It’s so big…” you sigh, licking your lips as you stroke his cock slowly.

From here, Suguru is certain he has a perfect view of you. Eyes wide and curious while you observe every ridge and vein running along his length. It turns him on beyond measure, his hips jerking upward in your grasp. 

“Damn,” he moans, fucking himself into your hands. For someone with no experience, you hold his dick just right. He never knew a woman’s touch could feel this good, but you’re a natural talent. You stroke him so good, his mouth falls slack as he lets himself enjoy the feeling of your hands around him. But you surprise him, just as you’ve been doing all this time, his eyes snapping open just in time to watch you lick from the base of his length all the way to the tip, teasing the slit with your tongue and lapping up the bead of precum that sits there.

“It’s salty,” you giggle before you kiss down his shaft, bringing your attention to his balls, kissing and licking the two orbs teasingly. Suguru inhales sharply, eyes rolling to the back of his head as the sensation makes his head swim with pleasure. Especially when your hand wraps around Suguru’s length again, pumping him up and down, slowly as you continue to lap at his balls.

“You’re already so good at this,” Suguru pants heavily.

“I am?” 

He can hear the excitement in your voice, so eager to please him. It turns him on knowing that you’re trying so hard to make him feel good. He wonders if you can feel his cock throb in your hands.

“So fucking good,” he praises you, loving the way you hum against him.

“Can I put it in my mouth?” You ask sweetly, squeezing your hands around his cock.

“God, please.”

When you take Suguru into the warmth of your mouth, you hum around him, and the vibrations make him shiver, back arching off of the seat. His palm finds the back of your head, his hips rolling up so he can shove his cock as far as possible without hurting you. He’s gentle at first. You’ve never done this before, after all. He wants to give you the time you need to adjust, though he can’t afford to give you too much. Which seems to be just fine, because just like before, you catch on quickly. You take his cock damn near to the base, and you take it so well, relaxing your throat for him so it’s easy. 

“Could fuck this pretty little mouth all day,” Suguru grunts, pumping into you. “So goddamn good.” The sound of his balls slapping against your chin as he fucks your face has his legs trembling, pleasure shooting straight up his spine. He wants to grab your head and push you down further, make you swallow all of him until he blows his load down your throat, then make you swallow that, too. But he doesn’t want to cum just yet.

He craves more from you. He needs more from you.

You hum again, sending another vibration through him as your fingers come up, caressing his balls. And Suguru squeezes his eyes shut, trying so hard not to cum. “Ah– shit, shit!” He pushes at your shoulders, forcing you off of him with a loud and wet pop. You look rather pleased with yourself, smiling when you see his red cheeks and the way he rapidly tries to catch his breath.

Like he noted before. You’re trouble.

“Fuck, you’re fuckin’ perfect,” he gasps, staring at your chin dripping with saliva and his juices. Suguru watches through hooded eyes as you swipe it away. He could watch you on your knees all day, taking his cock down your throat time and time again. But unfortunately, time is not on his side today. He needs to hurry it up.

“C’mere, pretty,” he calls for you, taking your hand. You stand, waiting for your next instruction as Suguru leans forward in his seat. His hands find your waist, pulling you close enough that he can press a kiss to your stomach before he leans back again. “Pull up your skirt for me.”

“Okay…” you agree, shakily. You reach for the hem of your skirt, pulling the layers of fabric as high as it’ll go. Suguru always hated these damn dresses. It’s like digging for gold trying to get through every damn piece of clothing. But eventually, you get to the end, revealing your bare thighs to him. Soft, plush, beautiful. But what he’s truly interested in remains concealed by your underwear.

Suguru swallows hard before he drags his finger along your clothed pussy, grinning when your thighs tremble just barely. His gaze glides back up your form until they rest on your face, watching as your mouth falls open with a silent moan. 

Hard to believe you’ve never been touched here. Also, so very arousing to think you’ve never been touched here. He thanks his lucky stars that you’re allowing him to be the first.

He slips his finger into the fabric, his slender fingers quickly finding your slit and sliding along your folds. He sucks in a sharp breath when he feels how soaked you are. He briefly brushes a finger against your entrance, pausing when he feels you tense up.

“Might hurt a little,” he warns as softly as he can manage right now. But you whisper, “go ahead”, hands coming to rest on his shoulders as he dips his finger into your pussy, biting back a moan when he feels your soft walls clench down on his hand. It’s tight, as expected but he moves slowly, pulling back every so often to work his way further.

You whimper above him, squeezing his shoulders as your breaths come rapidly while Suguru pumps his finger in and out of your hole. Your bottom lip sits between your teeth, and your brows are knitted together.

You’re enjoying this. 

And he’s enjoying watching you.

Suguru presses his thumb to your clit, slowly circling the sensitive nub. Dark eyes lock with yours as his other hand finds the top of your dress where he hooks his fingers into the cups and pulls it down. Your breasts spill out of the fabric and your breath hitches when the air caresses your nipples. Suguru kneads the soft flesh, his thumb swiping across one of the hardened buds. 

“Ahhh, yes,” you moan, your voice barely above a whisper. Your head falls back with a loud gasp as Suguru slips another finger into you. 

“Bein’ real good for me,” he coos. His dick grows painfully harder as he slowly thrusts his fingers inside of you, while his thumb stimulates your clit. He’s panting trying to hold himself together while he preps you for what he wants next. Your hips move on their own, riding Suguru’s hand, chasing your high. 

“Feel good?” He grunts, fingers slipping into you over and over, curling inside, and hitting your sweet spot and you can’t help but to gasp quietly each time Suguru touches it. 

“Y-yes, feels incredible,” you whine.

Suguru’s eyes are locked on your center where he watches his fingers disappear into your cunt over and over, your slick coating his hand more with each thrust. It only adds to Suguru’s struggle to keep it together as he ignores the pulsing need of his cock. Your pleasured moans and the squelching sound of your dripping pussy fill the space of the train car.

“I’m–” you breathe harshly against him and he feels your walls squeeze down on his digits. You’re close already.

“Gonna cum, sweetheart?” Suguru’s fingers dip into you faster. His eyes linger on your face as his thumb rubs tight circles on the sensitive bud between your legs. Your eyes flutter closed, mouth hanging open as a delicious moan rushes past your lips, your grip on Suguru’s shoulders tightening so much it stings. But he loves it, loves feeling your pussy squeezing down on his fingers, sucking them deeper as your release crashes over you until he can feel your cum dripping down his fingers and into his palm as he keeps pumping into you.

Suguru sighs as he stares at his fingers, slowly pulling them from you. He licks his lips, admiring his slick covered hand.

He’s never taken the time to just enjoy the moment with anyone. Never cared much to please a woman. It’s easier for him to just get himself off and high tail it out of there. No attachment to these ladies, no reason to stick around. But what is it about you that makes him want to see all the ways your body is capable of falling apart? Because it’s a beautiful sight to behold. 

“Outlaw…” you murmur, slipping your undergarments down your legs until you’re able to kick them off. You push Suguru back by the shoulders, lifting your skirt so that you can easily maneuver into his lap. His hands find your hips beneath your dress as you straddle him, and his thumbs caress the soft skin gently.

“Yeah, beautiful?”

So beautiful. He can’t stop staring at you and your eyes, glazed over with desire. You lean forward, the heat from between your legs making Suguru’s length twitch. It lightly taps your core and you gasp. Your hands clutch onto the bar that runs along the top of the train seat, one on each side of his head. Suguru’s palms glide around to your backside, squeezing the flesh of your ass. You brush your nose against his, soft breaths mingling with his as you whisper, “make love to me, outlaw…” just before your lips touch.

And Suguru’s groaning into your mouth, because this kiss is different. It’s hungry, hot, full of want and need. It’s sloppy and rushed, because you’re both aware of the time crunch you’re in. It’s intoxicating, addicting, the way he never wants to stop kissing you. To hell with the heist.

“Ready for me, pretty girl?” Suguru pants, a hand gripping his cock. He can feel the heat of your pussy radiating off of you and it makes him all the more eager to have you.

Your eyes are wide, filled with something Suguru thinks may be excitement. He’s not sure he sees any hesitation or fear behind your eyes. You want him badly, it’s clear as day. He wants you just as badly, if not more. So he positions himself at your entrance, nudging your hole gently with his tip. 

A small whimper slips past your lips, and Suguru kisses you sweetly. “It’s only gonna hurt for a second,” he coos. “Promise…”

He kisses you again, muttering, “I’m pushin’ in…” against your lips.

You close your eyes, teeth digging into your bottom lip as Suguru rolls his hips forward, slowly sinking his tip into your pussy, only stopping when you let out a harsh breath.

“‘S a tight fit,” he murmurs through gritted teeth. An understatement. Your pussy is gripping him with so much force, he’s struggling to breathe. You’re holding him hostage within your walls and the feeling has him tightening his hold on your ass. “You alright?”

Because he wants to make sure it feels good for you, too. Your pleasure is his. Which is a whole new feeling for him in and of itself. He’s aware of how the tables have turned. What started as him wanting to show you ways to please him, turned into him desperate to please you. But he likes it that way.

You nod, moaning quietly when Suguru keeps moving forward. “Ohhh…” 

“God, this pussy is so fuckin’ –” he can’t even finish his sentence. He needs to focus all his attention on not cumming already.

You take him all the way to the base, moaning loudly when you fully sink onto him. Your grip tightens around the bar, steadying yourself as Suguru lifts you by your ass before pulling you back down on him, so slowly. “Fuuuck–” he groans. He thrusts into you at a leisurely pace, slow and controlled, giving you time to adjust to his size. 

But his kisses…they’re rough. Such a contrast to the way he’s fucking you right now. The pleasure is overwhelming to Suguru, and when your tongue slips into his mouth, it’s him that’s whimpering now, thrusting just a little faster, a little harder.

“Damn, you take my cock so good, pretty girl–” he growls into your mouth. “Love the way you ride me.” He smacks your ass hard, eyes falling to your breast, bouncing up and down with the rhythm of his thrusts. He takes one into his mouth, greedily lapping at your nipple, nipping and sucking and loving the way your cries get louder.

“Oh my god, fuck!”

“Ride my cock, pretty. You already do it so good. Wanna see you ride me.” Suguru groans. He releases his hold on you, hands coming up to play with your breasts while you bounce wildly on his dick. He lifts your dress, relishing the view of his length, glistening with your slick, vanishes into your tight cunt over and over. “Shiiiitttt…”

You slip a hand into his tresses, pulling hard and forcing him away from your nipples. You pull so hard Suguru has to close his eyes because the sensation sends goosebumps igniting across his body. That, combined with the way you keep taking him to the tip before slamming down on his cock repeatedly. Fuck, you’re a quick learner.

Your pussy is what it feels like every single time he pulls off a heist successfully. Like fucking heaven. And he never wants to leave it.

His eyes flutter open, just enough to see your breasts bouncing with every rise and fall of your hips. Your velvety walls hug him tight, so fucking good, Suguru thinks he'd like to be able to have you all the time. Hell, he has half a mind to take you with him once they’re off this damned train. Being able to have you like this any time he wants, watch your body come undone under him, on top of him, in any position you’ll let him have you. He’d even give up this outlaw life if you wanted him to. Settle down, start a family if that’s what you wanted. The thought of it makes Suguru more excited than he’ll ever admit.

Each time your pussy sucks him back in, begging for him to cum, he can suddenly picture a life outside of this. Each time those sexy little noises fall from your sweet lips, he can suddenly envision raising a family with you, building himself a life where he's able to hear those sounds any time he desires. 

He lets his mind drift to these fantasies while he can, enjoying the feeling of you and the sounds you gift him with. 

There's a fire pooling in his belly, growing hotter each time his balls meet your ass. He's gonna blow his load here any second. And he can't wait. He wants to cum inside your walls, wants to thrust himself so deep into you that there's no way you're not carrying his child when he's done. Least you'll have something to remember him by if you tell him you don’t want shit to do with him after this. A sweet woman like you with a wanted felon? Of course you’d prefer to get your rocks off while you can and move on. Which is fine.

Because Suguru is gonna remember you, anyway. He’ll remember the way you squeeze around him, the way you moan the little nickname you’ve given him, the way your cunt feels fucking unlike any other woman’s. You’ve got him mesmerized. 

So much so, that he doesn't even notice the cool press of steel against the center of his forehead. 

“Ohhh,” you moan, whimpering, “Please…please…will you put a baby inside me, outlaw?” 

It’s like you read his mind, and Suguru’s eyes snap open, balls tightening as his release threatens to come at any moment. But then his eyes see the stiffness in your arm, see the glimmer of metal as the sunlight reflects off it through the windows, and he finally realizes you've got his gun to his head, and maybe that’s actually why his balls are tightening. You’ve got this wicked grin on your flushed face as you keep riding him. Hard, fast, walls squeezing him in a vice grip. And he can't do shit but let his eyes roll to the back of his head, let his pleasure race straight down his spine and into his balls as his release shoots from his cock before he has a chance to get ahold of himself.

But you don’t let him get a drop inside, lifting yourself smoothly off his lap just as fat, hot streams of cum land messily in his lap and on his stomach. Suguru’s gasping for air, still struggling to figure out what the fuck is going on. And you don’t give him a second to catch his breath, to let his mind catch up before you’re wrapping your hand around his cock again, squeezing and stroking his length until he’s so overstimulated his jaw is cramping up from how hard he’s gritting his teeth to keep from crying out.

“What the fuck are you ahhh–” you run your thumb over his leaking tip, your eyes alight with joy when his hips buck up automatically, legs trembling as you keep pumping him, though his balls are beyond empty. 

You tsk, shaking your head as you press the barrel of the gun harder against his skin. “Where’s that sweet outlaw from before?” You drawl.

Your voice has changed. No longer soft spoken, shy and sweet. The hardness of your tone tells Suguru all he needs to know. The memories come flooding back. And now he realizes why you looked so familiar when he first laid eyes on you. 

Your face has been plastered on wanted posters in damn near every town he and his partners have stopped in. Murder, robbery, drunkenness, prison escape, cheating at cards. All the crimes that should have you in the town square hanging, you’re wanted for. Somehow, you’ve managed to never get caught.

How could he have let his guard down? How could he have fucked up this badly?

‘Thinking with your dick. That’s how.’

“Guess it takes an outlaw to know one,” He grits out, nostrils flared with fury. He can only hope his crew comes through those doors soon, though it’ll be fucking humiliating to be caught in this position.

A giggle spills from your lips and the sound makes Suguru sick to his stomach. You don’t even sound like the same person from before. “Y’all are pretty easy to spot. ‘Specially when all y’all think with your cocks–” You echo his thoughts, emphasizing the word by squeezing Suguru’s slowly softening length in your hand. You frown, releasing your hold on him. “Huh, thought you’d be able to gimme another one.”

He inhales deeply, shakily, narrowing his eyes at the woman – the stranger – that stands before him. “Everything you said was a lie, then.”

It’s not a question. He knows. Because you’re just like him. Maybe even worse.

Laughter bursts from deep within, like what he said was the funniest thing you’ve ever heard. “It really is easy to fool y’all men. Just gotta make our pussies feel reallllll tight and wet and y’all don’t question nothin’.”

You climb off of the seat, taking the gun off his head while you fix your undergarments, unbothered and careless. And Suguru decides to act fast, takes this moment to lunge for you. But he doesn’t make it far, because his head is yanked back roughly the moment he jumps forward. His scalp burns, and he reaches back, feeling a thick knot tied around the metal bar that sits atop the train seats. The same metal bar you were just holding onto moments ago.

“You fuckin’ tied my hair to the seat?!” He growls.

And you chuckle, shifting your dress around until you’re decent again. The gun is pointed back at Suguru’s face, and he puts his hands back down, not daring to try and free himself when you’ve got a revolver ready to blow his brains out.

“And your hands are next,” you promise in a sing-song voice. You keep your word, spinning around briefly to reach between the wall and your original seat, where you’d apparently hidden a small rope. You make quick work of tying Suguru’s hands behind his back, leaning a little too close to him as you finish the knot. 

He can feel your breaths against his neck, and right now, if he’s being honest with himself – which he may as well be since he could very well be dead soon – it’s confusing him. Because he feels like he fucking hates you, is repulsed by you, could spit in your face right now. Oh, he really fucking wants to. But something tells him you’d like that anyway. And the thought of your face, depraved and covered in his saliva is making his still exposed length hard again. Even when you tug harshly on the rope for good measure, chuckling low in Suguru’s ear when you hear him hiss in pain, his cock stiffens further.

And of course you notice, your eyes glancing down to his lap, where the sticky mess you left him with lies. “Sure you don’t wanna go again?” You tease, laughing when Suguru scowls. 

You like him upset, and probably a little pathetic, because you press your lips to his pout, kissing him hungrily. And apparently, Suguru is as pathetic as he looks, because – and it’s a surprise to him, too – he kisses you back! Your tongues tangle during this brief meeting of your lips, fighting for dominance, though it’s apparent who’s the one in control here. 

The filthy moans between you are interrupted when Suguru feels that damned gun under his chin now, applying enough pressure to push him back. Only a line of your mixed saliva connects you two as you stare down at him in amusement.

“Like I said…” you peer down quickly at Suguru’s lap before whispering. “Aaaalways thinkin’ with your cock.” You step back, pointing the gun at him once again.

“What do ya want?” He asks, pulling at his restraints to no avail. He’d love nothing more than to wipe that cocky smile off your face and flip the tables on you, but it’s not looking good for him.

“What I want…” You wiggle the gun in his face, tauntingly. “...is already mine, outlaw.” There’s humor in your tone, and your body language is relaxed. You couldn’t see Suguru as less of a threat if you tried.

You piss him off.

And make him so fucking hard.

He’s confused!

The noise of the doors to the train cabin opening can be heard and Suguru grins. You’re fucked now. Larue is going to put a bullet between your eyes and sure, Suguru’ll be sad about it. But better you than him. You were a great fuck, he’ll admit. And yes, he entertained the idea of giving you a kid or two, maybe getting a little cabin out in the prairie. But that fantasy’s as dead as you’re about to be. Sad that he won’t be–

“The guy with the nipples and the girl have been taken care of, boss!” A chipper voice sings. 

That…is not Larue.

Suguru couldn’t turn his head if he tried, courtesy of this goddamn knot, but he can see the smirk on your face as you nod. “Great work, Hime. And the goods?”

“Already on the move with the others. Just gotta get on the horses when you’re ready.”

You turn your head, staring out the window and nodding again. Out of his peripheral, Suguru can just barely make out the form of two horses, racing alongside the train and he knows he’s screwed.

You sigh, shrugging while feigning sadness as you pout. “Well, outlaw…looks like this is the end of the line.”

Suguru tugs at his ropes again, struggling against the holds. “You gonna leave me here like this?” He gestures with his chin at his…situation. You must be forgetting his entire dick is out for the world to see. And that you’ve tied his hands up. Not to mention his fucking hair! If he has to cut his hair because of this…

You hum, like you’re actually giving deep thought to his question. You’re not.

“Yeah, actually. Think I am.” You lift your dress, not even pretending to be as innocent as you presented yourself to be when Suguru first laid eyes on you. You tuck his gun into the waistband of your undergarments, patting it affectionately. “Thanks for a grand ol’ time, outlaw. If you manage to survive this, we can do it again.”

You shoot him a wink before you lean over him, leaving him with one final kiss on the lips. It’s gentle this time, soft, save for a light nip to his bottom lip that embarrassingly enough, manages to arouse Suguru yet again. 

“At least tell me your name,” Suguru grits out through heavy breaths. “So I can be sure to repay the favor.”

It’s a threat, but you don’t take it as one. You simply smile. It’s warm, almost reminiscent of the woman he met just earlier. The woman he thought you were. But that look is gone as soon as it appeared. You pat his face gently, reaching across the seat to grab his hat that he had set aside when he’d first sat down. You sit it atop your head, wearing it like some sort of crown, and without another word, you leave.

The train cars open, the roaring rush of the wind filling the space for just a moment before they’re shut again, and Suguru is left with nothing but his thoughts and his dick literally out. He leans his head back against the seat, closing his eyes to calm his racing heart and honestly to stifle the pain of his untouched erection.

This has been the wildest ride of his life. Definitely the worst heist he’s ever done. And if he does survive this, does manage to somehow talk his way out of charges and prison time, he’s going to find you. Fuck the robberies. Fuck the brothels. Fuck gambling and drinking all day. Yeah, if he manages to survive this, he will make it his life’s mission to find you again.

Because even after all is said and done, Suguru thinks he might fucking love you.

[hanniesbrat]

wake up, sunshine | c.sc

somno + breeding kink with seungcheol

pairing: choi seungcheol x reader

genre: smut, est. relationship

wc: ~1.2k (again… not proofread)

synopsis: morning sex w seungcheol and yall lowkey want babies but you also don’t (rn).

!other kinktober fics!

a/n: 11am on the due date… HELP you guys please i know this is MID as FUCK!! i have zero motivation right now for this, but i wanted to put something out. i’ll come back one day w a better cheol fic to make up for this tiny thing ): also there’s a lot of “fuck”s in this idk… what happened. oh and one last thing…

SM SUPPORTS BULLYING!

it was just past 7am. the crisp fall breeze whispered through the bedroom window, nipping seungcheol on his shoulder. his eyes fluttered open as he rolled over onto his back. he stared at the ceiling for a couple seconds before looking to his right side where you were still lying fast asleep. a soft smile crept onto his face as he watched your peaceful form rise and fall with each breath. he reached his arm out to tuck your hair that had fallen in your face, behind your ear. he shifted onto his side to admire you more comfortably, never growing bored of this hobby. uninterrupted, getting to stare at the beauty in front of him that he was lucky enough to call “mine”.

unless you had an early shift, seungcheol was always awake before you. always exhausted from work, you loved to milk your sleep for all it was worth, whereas your boyfriend would prefer to start his days early. you’d normally wake up an hour after him to the smell of bacon permeating the air in your room.

however, this morning was different.

“fuck,” he mumbled under his breath, nowhere near loud enough to wake you. something about the way your nose had a slight pink tint from the open window, the way your hair was draped beautifully behind you, and the way he could catch a glimpse of your chest down the top of the comforter had his cock trying to break free from his boxers. you looked… devine. in your sleep, you rolled onto your back, and seungcheol took it as an opportunity to get some early breakfast.

he couldn’t help himself. he ducked under the covers, moving himself in between your legs. even in pitch blackness, he knew your body like the back of his hand. he effortlessly moved his arms under your thighs, lifting them over his shoulders, holding them tightly. he gave your inner thighs a couple soft kisses before kitten licking your clit. gentle enough to not startle you, but the feeling so blissful nonetheless, you start shifting your hips slightly under his hold. seungcheol smiled against your core before using an arm to lift the comforter up to see your angelic face already looking down at him. “wake up, sunshine,” he cooed before taking your clit into his mouth, still maintaining eye contact. you gasped at the sudden warmth, in contrast to your now cold, exposed skin. “ch-cheol, what’re you doing?” you giggled out. you don’t even remember falling asleep fully naked but, whatever. you’re currently glad you did.

“having an appetizer before breakfast,” he stated very matter of fact. “i woke up extra hungry, i guess,” he shrugged with a tender smile on his face.

you giggled again before running your fingers through his hair, tugging lightly on the strands to hint that you wanted his face up here with yours, and (even tho his tongue was magic) something else between your legs. your boyfriend couldn’t help his sweet nature, though. as he crawled on top of you, eyes locked on yours, he whispered, “you have the prettiest eyes baby,” before attacking your lips with his. when he pulled away you smiled, “imagine if we made little me’s… ya know… my eyes and stuff…” he chuckled at your flushed cheeks and flustered demeanor. were you trying sweet talk him? dirty talk him? your half-asleep brain had no idea, but he knew exactly what you were getting at.

he hummed before kissing your forehead, then your cheek, then your jaw, and then your neck... he lingered there, leaving tender, wet kisses on your skin. the softness of it all slowly sending you back off into your dreams. “cheol…” you whispered, almost completely asleep. seungcheol pulled away from your neck, once again hovering over you. he smiled at your sleepy face. knowing that he was soothing your body so well that he’d sent you back to sleep was making his cock swell up with even more need. he loved taking care of you in every way. he lived for it. he craved your happiness. when you were satisfied, so was he.

he reached his hand down to grab his cock from his boxers, inhaling sharply at the contact. he rubbed his tip lightly up and down your entrance, smearing a mix of your slick and his spit all over your cunt. he pushed himself inside of you with a low, quiet groan in hopes to not disturb you too much. you squirmed a bit, definitely not asleep, but still too tired and relaxed to open your eyes. “mmmph cheol…”

seungcheol sluggishly started thrusting in and out of you, his hand moving up to cup your face. “are you awake yet, sunshine?” he breathed. “uh uh,” you whimpered, smiling softly with your eyes still closed. “gotta fuck you awake then hm?” he smirked before picking up his pace. you moaned out at his increased determination to get you both off out of nowhere. in no time, seungcheol’s hips were snapping into yours and he was demanding you to look him in the eyes as he wrecked you from the inside out. his voice started to raise in pitch. “do you feel me in there, love? f-feel me all in your stomach hm? god~ -m gonna fill you up with my cum yeah?” he panted, resting his forehead on yours. “y-yes p-please cheol, please… breed me” you pleaded, fully awake at this point. seungcheol’s hips stuttered. he had to stop himself. “fuuuck,” he growled at your words. he started thrusting in and out of you again, far more brutal than before. “such a good girl. so g-good begging for me to breed you huh? p-pump you full of my cum? fuck~” he panted out, chasing his high. you were right behind him, the knot in your tummy ready to snap at any moment. “ch-cheol i’m gonna cum,” you cried out, screwing your eyes shut, arching your back. you crying his name, pressing your tits up against him… he was done for. “fuck~” he moaned out pushing his cock all the way inside you, filling you up completely.

morning showers weren’t your thing, but you had no choice this morning. you and cheol were both a mess.

“so,” cheol started from inside the kitchen, grabbing you a plate of food. your eyes admiringly watching him cross over to the dining table where you were. “you want babies hm?” he asked in a teasing tone. you chuckled grabbing the plate from him, then he sat with his. “i mean yeah one day… not now, though,” you poked at a piece of scrambled egg with your fork before bringing it to your mouth. “that’s too bad..” cheol jokingly sighed. “too bad?” you raised an eyebrow. “yeah… i don’t know i got like… a warm fuzzy feeling over the thought of little yous running around.” you beamed at his words. “that’s called a paternal instinct,” you giggled, then you continued, “and i’m glad you have one.” you reached over the table patting him on his head.

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